


The Whole Night Through

by demonsonthemoon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Sexual Content, Singin' in the Rain AU, Threesome, between Steve and Natasha, established stucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26108302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsonthemoon/pseuds/demonsonthemoon
Summary: Steve Rogers is Monumental Pictures' biggest star.Bucky Barnes is an ignorable musician.Peggy Carter is an aspiring actress.Bucky Barnes is Steve Rogers longtime romantic partner.Steve Rogers is attracted to Peggy Carter.(A Singin' in the Rain re-telling)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue - Fit as a Fiddle

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a complete re-telling of the movie Singin' in the Rain because that movie gives me all the OT3 feels. You don't have to have seen the movie to read this though, and the story has definitely been adapted in a lot of places. Chapter titles are taken from the OST of the movie.

The flashing lights were still utterly terrifying, even after all these years, but they had also never stopped being intoxicating.

The trick was not to try and look beyond them. It was no use attempting to make out the people behind the cameras, and it only made one more afraid to disappoint them.

The trick was to always smile, until people started believing you knew what you were doing.

Under thunderous applause, Steve took a step forward. And then another. He made it look natural instead of arduous. That was his job. Natasha, an arm wrapped around his, followed him easily.

“Here they finally are,” a lady crooned into a microphone. “The stars of the hour! Steve Rogers and Natalie Roman just stepped onto the red carpet and, dear listeners, I dare say they look even more beautiful than usual.”

Ignoring the blind spots in his vision caused by the flashing cameras, Steve turned to the radio announcer with a bright grin. The smile turned a lot more genuine when he noticed that Bucky was standing by her side.

“Mister Rogers!” The lady called to him. “Please come and say a word to our listeners, they're dying to hear you.”

Steve fervently hoped that _dying_ was an exaggeration. He sometimes wished that cinema fans were slightly less... _intense_. It would ease a lot of his worries.

Of course, he didn't let any of that train of thoughts show on his face, and instead confidently stepped behind the microphone.

“Hello everyone. I'm Steve Rogers. I'm here for the premiere of my last movie, _The Royal Rascal_. A lot of people put their heart into this picture – me included – and we all really hope that you'll enjoy it.”

“Oh, I'm sure we will, Mister Rogers, I'm sure we will.” Steve was about to withdraw and join Bucky's side, but the announcer gripped his arm, preventing his escape. “We still have some time left before the movie starts, don't we?” She didn't wait for a reply. “Why don't you tell our listeners about how you became the movie star that you are today? You have such an inspiring life story.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Steve said, playing up his embarrassment. “I'm not sure it would really interest anyone...”

“On the contrary! This could be the night one of our listeners finally decides they want to try out an acting career!”

_If they did, I would pity them,_ Steve thought. But he knew it was no use fighting. Going along with whatever the media wanted from him was part of his job. Just another role to play.

He gave an amiable nod to the announcer and stepped fully behind the mic, letting the well-rehearsed lines flow off his tongue.

“Well. I have to confess, I wasn't always the catch that I am today. My beginnings were fairly modest. I wasn't a very resourceful child either... I mostly spent my time picking fights that I couldn't win. I might never have reached adulthood, if my best friend Bucky hadn't been there to talk some sense into me.”

He pointed at Bucky as he said that. The other man gave a little wave to the people around them, although most of them only had eyes for Steve.

_My best friend_. The words tasted bitter in his mouth. Not because they weren't true. The just weren't the _whole_ truth. They weren't enough to express what Bucky really meant to Steve.

“Bucky has always been a musician. He was the one who opened my eyes and ears to the importance of the arts. We were very lucky that our parents agreed to send us to a conservatory to study our passion.”

_That_ actually wasn't the truth. What had happened was that a 10-year old Bucky had figured out that it was easier to keep Steve busy with something else than to rescue him from fights. So he'd taken it upon himself to teach the both of them to play the violin. Then they'd started busking using some busted old instruments. Although, technically, they had more often been paid to leave than for their actual music.

“My interest in acting began when my parents took me to the theater...”

The words came to him as easy as breathing, well-worn on his tongue.

Despite the fact that he'd never been to the theater as a child. Instead, he had snuck in to see some movies with Bucky, getting caught and kicked out more than once. They had raised themselves on bad music and comedy flicks, because those were the things that kept them out of the house when Bucky's dad was drunk and angry and Steve's mom was too busy working.

“Bucky and I soon realized that the small-town art scene wasn't enough for us, and so we came to the big city.”

Steve's mom had died. The next day, Bucky had stared into Steve's eyes and told him that their hometown held nothing good for them anymore. So they'd run. They had slept on interstate trains and survived on cans of ravioli and _somehow_ managed not to die. It had been a small miracle that Steve hadn't caught pneumonia exactly one day into the trip, considering his health record at that point. But somehow they had made it.

“Movies seemed like the way forward. I'm not going to pretend it was easy-” Understatement of the century. “But we had each other's back. We started auditioning, got our first roles as extras-”

They had both started as musicians, not as actors. They used to be hired to do mood music. The only reason Steve had transitioned away from that job was that a stuntman had once gotten injured on set, and Steve had been enough of an idiot to offer to cover for him. He had finally found a way to work his practice at taking a beating into his resume. Turned out that really had made him the perfect person to throw into danger for the sake of a good picture. Directors had _loved_ it. They had loved it, loved _him_ so much that they had kept on hiring him. And since Steve insisted on having Bucky by his side, they had kept on hiring him too. After all, they _did_ need someone to provide set music, putting Bucky on payroll saved them the time it would have taken to look for someone else.

“It took time for us to work our way up. Me as an actor, and Bucky as a musician. But through all of our hardships, we always held onto our principles. And onto our dignity. You can see the results.” Steve ended his speech with a charming smile, which he first aimed at the radio announcer and then extended to the audience gathered around them.

_Always smile_ , Steve told himself. _Smile despite the bitter taste in your mouth._ It didn't matter if he lied, not when nobody actually expected him to tell the truth. He was here to sell a picture. To sell a dream. That was all that mattered.

Bucky would tease him about this fantasy life later. With a wicked smile on his face, he would call him “Sir” or “M'lord” or any other snobby title, and he'd ask whether Steve needed a silver spoon to put sugar in his tea. He would act ridiculously enough for Steve to forget his bitterness, and then Bucky would kiss him as an apology and everything would be better.

Steve had fought hard to get himself here. He hadn't been afraid to get himself dirty. His story wasn't pretty. But standing on the steps of a movie theater and spouting off this _nonsense_ about his luck and determination and _proper_ life, that was when he felt like the dirt would never come off his skin. He had fought. For his dream, but mostly so that he and Bucky could survive. And that didn't make it okay to lie, not really, but Steve didn't care enough. He just did what had to be done.

Often, that meant smiling and lying through his teeth.

Talk about dignity.


	2. Chapter 1: Dignity

Sitting down and spending an hour and a half watching your own face on a giant screen was always a strange feeling. Steve didn't feel as uncomfortable about it as once had, but that didn't mean it wasn't _weird_. You couldn't get used to something like this.

At least his acting skills had improved enough that he didn't feel like dying of embarrassment every time he appeared on screen. His performances weren't perfect by far, and he could only ever do so much with some of the scripts he had been handed. But he could still consider himself lucky that his movie premieres had become more akin to purgatory than outright hell.

The premieres' _afterparties_ , however, were still as awful as they had ever been. Those events involved spending the whole night in a tight suit nodding along to the words of anyone who had money in their pockets. They also meant spending hours finding discreet ways to feed the rumors that he and his co-star, Natalie Roman (or Natasha Romanova, outside of the public eye) were dating.

Steve had been appalled when the studio had suggested that they play along to the tabloids' gossips. He knew that some lies were necessary to preserve the image his fans had of him. He understood that and could grudgingly accept it. This fake relationship was too much though. It was unnecessary. The owner of the studio, however, didn't think so, and he had suggested that it might be just what was needed to keep the journalists off the scent of something juicier. He had then thrown a meaningful look at where Bucky had been busy improvising something on the piano. Steve hadn't had much of a choice after that.

He had still protested that he wouldn't agree to anything before he'd had the chance to talk to Natasha about it. His boss had agreed and set up a meeting with the both of them to discuss it.

Steve had been surprised by the ease with which Natasha had agreed to the plot. He should probably have known better.

Natasha wasn't cold, but she was calculating. She played with feelings like Bucky played a violin. Meaning that she was a master at it. She had worked harder than most to get where she was now, and that meant she would do _anything_ to keep her place in the spotlight.

And, Steve mused, Natasha hadn't had any romantic relationship that Steve knew of since they'd started working together. She was a woman. He could guess that her being single might bring a lot of unwanted attention.

In the end, _that_ was what made him accept to play along. Pretending to date her didn't feel as cheap and cowardly if he was somehow helping her, and not just himself and the studio. Whatever good reasons they had for this game, though, playing it was still tiring as all hell. Steve was looking forward to the drive between the movie theatre and the mansion where the afterparty was meant to take place. That drive meant a few privileged minutes of being alone in Bucky's company. From the look he was sending him as Steve shook an endless amount of hands, Bucky was thinking along similar lines.

It always made Steve's heart twinge to notice how Bucky was constantly standing a few steps behind him, constantly in his shadow. The other man was the true star, as far as Steve was concerned. He was a musical genius. He was the reason Steve was standing on a goddamn red carpet in the first place.

Scratch that. Bucky was the reason why Steve was still standing at all.

But no on recognized that. No one paid attention, despite how many times Steve tried to _tell them_. Bucky had learned all about the art of fading into the background.

He kept insisting that this state of affair didn't bother him, that he was happy to get even a taste of Steve's fame. He kept saying that he wouldn't have been able to handle the attention anyway, that this was better for everyone.

Some days, Steve thought Bucky actually believed his own words. Some days he was less good at lying to himself.

Finally, _finally_ , Steve managed to pull himself free from the last group of people who had wanted to greet him. He had already forgotten who they were. His mother had taught him better manners than this, but right no he just couldn't be bothered. The only thing he wanted was some quiet and his boyfriend by his side.

Bucky opened the car door after he'd finally joined him in making their daring escape.  
“If Sir Rogers would be so inclined as to-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve replied with a laugh as he stepped into the car.

Bucky settled in the driver seat with a grin. “Why, do you feel the need to hear your own voice for a while? That's the problem with movies, isn't it? People can stare at your eyelashes all they want, but they'll never know how tragic it is that they don't get to experience how stupid you sound.”

He pulled away from the theatre as he talked, ever the confident driver despite the fact that his car was a death trap.

“Of course, the wonders of my tongue are a privilege reserved to you and you only.”

Bucky didn't sputter. He only sputtered under the influence of either large amounts of alcohol or tickling. He did, however, inhalte sharply and even blushed a little. Steve found it absolutely delightful.

“You are such a little shit.”

“What, because now you're going to be thinking about me giving you a blowjob for the rest of the evening?”

Bucky groaned. Still, he kept his eyes on the road, so he couldn't have been _too_ aggravated. Or maybe he'd just had _a lot_ of practice at ignoring Steve.

“Well, oviously, _now_ I am. And I'm going to make damn sure I actually _get_ that blowjob. If you get too drunk, you're gonna walk home to sober you up, I'm warning you.”

“I'm sure we won't need that.” Steve batted his eyelashes. “I don't need more bubbles when you already put butterflies in my heart.”

“Urgh. _Gross_.”

Steve laughed, loud and free and _himself_.

The sound died abruptly, however, along with their car. Bucky tried to start the engine again. He failed. He glared at Steve.

“This is entirely your fault. You had to act like an asshole just so karma could find a good reason to get back to you and get _me_ caught in the crossfire _again_.”

Steve raised his hands in surrender. “Oh, sure, I'm sure this situation has nothing to do with the fact that your car is a thousand years old and needs to be repaired every thirteen days on average.”

“ _You're_ a thousand years old.”

“I'm three months older than you.”

Bucky's comeback was to stick his tongue out. Steve tried to roll his eyes at him, but he knew that his grin was showing through. This was what he had needed: the ease of being allowed to _be_.

“Come on. Let's see if we can figure out what's wrong with Old Betsy this time.”

Bucky stroked the top of his car as he got out, muttering about the disrespect of old people these days. Steve had barely propped the hood open, however, when a voice cut through the air.

“Hey, aren't you Steve Rogers?”

He winced. He wouldn't say that _nothing_ good ever came out of being recognized on the street – he had met genuinely kind and respectful fans once or twice. However, the potential for things to go wrong was statistically very high, especially when this was a crowded area and-

There it went.

The first shout had attracted the attention of more people, who had turned towards him with cries of their own, and now a crowd had started to gather. They were just happy to see him, Steve had to remind himself. It was hard to shake the impression of being an innocent rabbit surrounded by a pack of angry wolves.

Just happy to see him.

Bucky had moved behind the car. It meant he was less likely to be trampled by Steve's groupies, which was good, but it also meant that Steve was on his own.

He tried to smile to the first woman who came up to him, ready to offer her an autograph if they would all just quiet down a little bit. The woman, however, didn't give him the time to say a single word before she reached for his hair. She gripped a strand between her fingers and _pulled_. The pain and surprise both made Steve recoil out of her grasp with a loud “ _What the hell?_ ”

He didn't have much time to worry about whether the woman was planning to use his hair for a voodoo ritual or for a creepy collection, because there were soon a lot more hands touching him.

Steve was trying to keep some sort of composed façade on, gently pleading with the group of fans tugging at his clothes. Behind the act though, he felt panic rise up in his chest and every single one of his instincts yell at him to just punch the next person who extended a hand in his direction. But he couldn't do that. Because then that person would file a lawsuit for assault, and then his career would be over, and then he would be put in jail and never be able to touch Bucky's skin again.

Bucky himself seemed to be trying to get through the crowd and come to Steve's rescue. He kept being pushed back, though. When Steve felt the seam of his sleeve tear open, he realised he didn't have any time to waste. He struggled just enough to free himself for a few seconds but not actually hurt anyone. With a promise to apologize to Bucky, he put one hand on top of Old Betsy and jumped onto the roof.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bucky shouted after him. “You're going to get yourself killed!”

He had part of a point, in that Steve would most definitely have risked his life if he had stayed one more second in the midst of his so-called fans. He didn't want to be the kind of person who looked down on his admirers, he truly didn't, but he also liked being treated like an actual human being from time to time.

From his perch atop Bucky's car, Steve considered his options. They seemed quite bleak. At least until Steve spotted a convertible with its roof open driving right in their direction. Streetfights had prepared Steve for work as a stuntman. That particular career had apparently prepared Steve for daring escapes from his over-enthusiastic groupies.

There was a trick to all of these stunts. Take stock of what you have to do as quickly as possible, and then stop thinking about it entirely.

Right as the new car drove next to them, slowing down slightly to take a look at the commotion, Steve jumped.

He fell into the passenger seat as neatly as one could in such circumstances. The driver screamed. Steve considered himself lucky that her first reflex had been to hit the gas pedal instead of the brakes. He wasn't sure that particular instinct would be helpful in any other situation, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth when said horse was quickly getting him away and out of the crowd's reach.

“What are you doing in my car?” The driver asked beside him, after having given him just enough of a once-over to assert he wasn't a threat. She was keeping her eyes on the road, which Steve thought showed a remarkable strength of character.

“Making a daring escape. I think you just saved my life.”

“Is that so?” She asked, gritting her teeth. Without warning, she took a sharp turn into a sidestreet. She stopped her car right in front of a police officer, waving the man their way.

“Good evening officer. This stranger just jumped into my car without my consent. I'd like to get rid of him.”

The policeman turned towards him, a cold look on his face. However, the expression quickly softened, before turning into a grin.

“Mr Rogers! Oh my, it's such an honor to meet you. I've seen so many of your movies! I can't believe I'm actually seeing you in real life! Of course we see a few celebrities around here but you're... Oh, I'm such a big fan of your work!”

Steve put on a beaming smile, one of many in his repertoire. This was definitely a nice change from his childhood encounters with cops. Those had involved a lot of shouting, quite a few occasions of being picked up off the ground and carried around rather embarrassingly, and a fair share of minor injuries on both parts. “You flatter me!”

“What are you doing in the neighbourhood, sir?” The officer asked, now totally ignoring the driver of the car. This was rather rude of him, but it fitted Steve's purpose in this moment. The thought of using people to his advantage was making shame rise up in his throat. But one look at the state of his ripped jacket told him that these were desperate enough circumstances to forego good manners a moment longer.

“Oh, I'm just passing through. I got into a bit of a scuffle, you see. Nothing untowards of course.” He winked to punctuate the last part, and the policeman gave him a knowing smile. Steve wanted to punch him in the face a little. “But this nice lady here-” He gestured to the driver, who glared at him. “Was kind enough to help me get out of trouble.”

The officer finally turned towards the woman again. “Well, you did all of America a service, ma'am. Mr Rogers. I'll be on my way now. It's been an honor.”

“Oh, the pleasure was all mine.”

True to his words, the policeman immediately started walking away, with barely a glance in their direction. Awkward silence settled over the car.

The woman sighed. She looked down at her steering wheel as if she were contemplating the possibility of just lying her head down on it and waiting for Steve to disappear. After a few seconds, though, she turned towards him again.

“Well. Since you're apparently a movie star and not a stalker trying very inefficiently to murder me, I guess I could drop you off somewhere.”

Steve beamed at her, genuinely this time. “That would be extremely nice of you. I'm really sorry for the trouble I caused. It wasn't my intention. I was... in a bad situation. Thank you for getting me out of it.”

“You're welcome. I guess. Please avoid jumping into strangers' cars in the future.”

“It wasn't in my plans to try it again, I assure you.”

She nodded. “Where to, then?”

“Ah...” Steve looked down at his jacket, and the sleeve that had almost been entirely ripped off. “I guess I'm in need of a change of clothes. There's a tailor I know on 3rd Avenue, just a few blocks down. Do you think you could drop me off there?”

“Sure,” the lady said, immediately starting up her engine and smoothly inserting herself into traffic. “So. Movies?”

Steve let a small laugh escape him. It had been a while since anybody had asked him that question in such a neutral tone.

“Movies. Steve Rogers, leading actor for Paramount Pictures, at your service.” He tipped an imaginary hat.

“Peggy Carter. I think I recognize you now. I don't go to the movies very often, but I guess I must have seen you once or twice.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. He was used to people being over-enthusiastic about his career, and unsure how to react to Peggy's blasé attitude. It was a nice change. There was something pleasing about her indifference. Something kind of... attractive.

 _Oh shit_. He was going to bottle that thought up and throw it into the sea. A far-away sea, preferably. You couldn't be too safe.

“You're not a big fan of the arts?” Steve asked, focusing firmly on the conversation and not on the fact that Peggy really _was_ quite pretty. There was a natural wave to her hair that made Steve want to wrap a strand around his finger, and her sharp cheekbones drew the eye to her mouth in a very distracting way.

But it wasn't like Steve would ever actually try anything with her. He had a boyfriend, more than a boyfriend, a life-long companion, a soulmate, and he was perfectly happy with him. Even just _thinking_ about someone else felt like a betrayal to Bucky. It felt like taking one step closer to that gaping void that was the _easy_ life he'd always been promised.

“Oh, I like the arts just fine. Just not very keen on cinema. I don't want to be rude or anything, it's just... It feels a bit repetitive after a while. You see one movie and you've seen them all. Or at least enough for a time.”

He winced at Peggy's words. Maybe he didn't need _that_ much indifference.

“I really don't mean to be rude. I'm sure you're great at what you do. That police officer sure seemed to think so.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she said those words. Steve had to admit it was warranted. “It's just... the format is a bit limited, isn't it? At least the way they make movies now.”

Steve stared at her. He'd been preparing himself for a dismissive comment of cinema as a hype phenomenon. He hadn't expected for her to have actually thought about this. Her comment should have stung, but somehow the fact that she wasn't dismissing his livelihood on principle made the critique less scathing.

“It's a new art form still. It's not yet found its identity. Technological progress is made every single day in the field, it's just sometimes hard for the actual movies to keep up with that.

Peggy hummed thoughtfully. “I think I get what you mean with the identity part. Cinema is trying so many things at once, but in the meantime... It's just lacking a bit in dignity, I suppose.”

 _Ouch_. Steve wasn't going to wince again. He wasn't. He was not going to let the words of a beautiful stranger make him doubt this thing that had brought so much good in his life. He was _meant_ for acting. It was the only thing that had ever worked out for him. He brought people the emotion and relief they craved, and he got to bring back home enough money that he and Bucky didn't have to worry about their next meal ever again. Dignity had never done as much for him.

He was saved from finding an adequate response to Peggy's remark by the fact that they'd reached they're destination.

“Here we are. I should be able to find a change of clothes and hail a cab from here.” Peggy carefully parked alongside the road, letting him climb off. “Thank you so much for helping me. I'm really sorry for all the trouble I caused you. If you would accept some token of gratiture-” He went to fish out his wallet from his jacket pocket, but Peggy's sharp voice stopped him.

“Don't. Look, I'm not... It's fine.” Her gaze was firmly fixed on him, dark and intense. Steve could guess that something was going on, but he couldn't have said what. “Promise not to frighten any other stranger half to death by jumping into their moving vehicle, and we'll be even.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. He wouldn't have described her as frightened half to death. She'd been a bit surprised, but considering the circumstances, she'd acted with remarkable composure.

Still. He wasn't about to be a dick about it.

“Of course. No more jumping into cars. I promise. Thank you again.”

Peggy nodded. Steve walked away.


	3. Chapter 2: All I Do Is Dream of You

Arriving late at a party was one of Steve's pet peeves. Mostly due to the fact that people assumed he had done it on purpose: _look how long I can make you wait for the sheer joy of my presence_. He apologised profusely in order to avoid that impression, but wasn't convinced that it had any effect.

Showing up late was still better than showing up with half a sleeve missing though.

Bucky carefully sidled up behind him after he had made his first round of greetings. “Where the fuck were you?” He asked, low enough that no one else would hear. “And what happened to your jacket?”

Steve sighed. “The other one got torn up during the scuffle. The lady whose car I jumped into was kind enough to drive me to a tailor to get a new one.”

Bucky whistled softly. “Wow. I was betting on you getting hit with a purse and left to die on the side of the road.”

“Thanks for the image, that's very comforting.”

“You're welcome.” He gave Steve a brotherly clap on the shoulder, hand lingering just a _little_ bit too long to truly be casual. “I'm glad you made it, though.” Some of the tension pooling in Steve's back finally relaxed.

“Wait until we survive this party before you commit to that.”

“Oh, don't worry, I'm well ahead of you on that.” Bucky gestured at an empty champagne flute on a nearby table, then picked up two full glasses. He gave one to Steve and raised his. “To you not getting mauled by your hysterical fanbase.”

“To you being no help at all.”

Bucky shrugged with a roguish grin. “Seemed like you and the pretty lady had the situation handled. Besides, couldn't risk injuring my hands by trying to drag you out. They're a musician's only assets, you know.”

Steve smirked. “I wouldn't say that. I can definitely think of a few others...” He meaningfully trailed his eyes across Bucky's body. This brought the slightest of blush to the other man's cheeks, which immediately made Steve's mood about 300% better.

He didn't even have to fake cheerfulness as Pierce, the head of Monumental Pictures, came to congratulate him.

“Ah, Steve. Finally! Another job well done. Everyone loved the movie.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Tonight is your night. You should enjoy yourself. We even have a few surprises for you!”

“Surprises, sir?”

“Oh yes,” Pierce said with a manic gleam to his eyes. He stepped away from Steve. “Everybody, gather around! Someone set up the projector!”

“Oh great,” Bucky whispered sarcastically. “What else would we want to do after having watched a movie than watch another movie?”

“Would you rather they all realised that there's a real world existing outside of our little art bubble?” Steve and Bucky both jumped at the new voice, before realizing that it was only Natasha, Steve's co-star and fake girlfriend. Steve still didn't know how she managed to walk around so silently despite wearing high-heels nearly all the time. “Why, I do think it might just break those poor people.”

Bucky grinned. He'd always liked Natasha's dry sense of humor. Steve rolled his eyes.

The fact that Natasha was such an interesting person was one of the only things that made their fake-dating situation at all bearable. That and the way she and Bucky got on like a house on fire, which guaranteed a total lack of jealousy on either part. It also guaranteed endless torment for Steve, because the two of them usually teamed up against him as soon as an opportunity arose.

“Leave these people alone,” Steve said, finally responding to Natasha's scathing comment. “At least they're not hurting anyone.”

Bucky and Natasha both raised one of their eyebrows. It was unnerving. Steve drained his flute of champagne and waved a waiter over to get another one.

The lights dimmed, and so they all settled down to watch whatever short film the studio executives had prepared that night. A middle-aged white man soon appeared on the screen.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, I am proud to introduce you to this prototype of a talking picture.”

Steve's jaw dropped. That was... That was different. The man on the screen was moving his mouth and they could hear his voice, as if he were standing right here in the room.

“As you can see, the movements of my mouth and the sounds you hear are perfectly synchronized.”

“Come on, Alex,” someone in the room shouted. “Come out from behind that screen.”

The studio owner laughed benevolently. “I promise you I'm not doing anything.”

“The sounds I'm making are stored on a record,” the man on screen continued. “Which we can then play at the same time as the picture. Through this process, we can create this. A talking picture. Thank you for your attention.”

Pictures and sound both faded.

Steve was transfixed. This was exactly what he had meant when he'd told Peggy Carter that the field of cinema was full of new technological achievements. Whatever that woman thought, _this_ was art. This was the future.

“Well, that was certainly impressive, Alex,” some financial big shot said not far from Steve. “But do you really think there's any future in this stuff?”

Pierce shrugged. “I'm not sure yet. It's certainly a wonderful gadget, but it drives up production prices like crazy. And the public isn't used to it. Let's say I'm... keeping my options open. The best investment is the one you make at the right time.”

Steve was glad that no one was looking in his direction, because he couldn't have held in his glare if his life had depended on it.

This wasn't about the _money_.

Talking pictures. It was a whole new world opening to them. This was where cinema would find its true identity. Its soul. Its dignity. This was the way to make movies as big as they had always promised to be, to put them on the same level as Shakespeare's theatre or Henry James' novels.

Steve was still ruminating on all of this when an enormous cake was rolled into the room. The guests immediately started crowding around it, and Steve followed them without thinking.

Then there was a loud bang, glitter everywhere, and a woman stepped out of the cake, wearing a bright smile and not much else.

Steve quickly averted his gaze from what little pink fabric her outfit was made of, and met the gaze of no other than Peggy Carter.

Her smile wavered for a fraction of a second. However, music immediately started, and a wave of other dancers came into the room. This was enough to shake Peggy out of her trance and have her step into formation with them.

Their choreography was far from ballet, but Steve guessed that high art wasn't the point. The dancers were here as entertainment, and when it came to that a skimpy outfit was enough for a lot of the people in this room. That didn't mean they danced badly. There was something charming about the simplicity of a catchy song and the precise rhythm of their movements. There was grace there, under all the glitter and the fake smiles.

Steve hadn't thought he would ever see Peggy Carter again. That had been fine with him. He could survive with only the memory of a beautiful woman and an incisive wit. Perhaps it would even have been better if that was all he had had of her. Apparently, though, the universe thought otherwise. And here she was.

Pierce had promised him surprises. He hadn't realised how true he had spoken.

The dancers finished their routine and started distributing candy to the guests. Steve squeezed Bucky's shoulder quickly, told him he would just be a second, and then made his way towards Peggy.

The woman's gaze was determined when it crossed his, although she kept an artifical smile plastered onto her face.

“Hello again,” Steve said, trying for a gentle voice.

“Hi,” Peggy replied forcedly. Probably she was interpreting his tone as condescending. She kept on distributing candy to the other guests, half ignoring him.

“So... you're a dancer, then? I wouldn't have thought.”

Peggy winced. It wasn't exactly the reaction Steve had been aiming for. He really was just trying to make conversation.

“Yeah, well, one's gotta eat.”

“Is that why you do it?”

She went even more tense. Steve was pretty much panicking by this point, trying to find a way to take back all he'd said and salvage the situation.

After a second, Peggy stood up straight and gave him her full attention.

“Listen. We don't live in the same world you and I. We don't have the same problems or the same dreams or the same considerations. And that's fine. I've made my peace with that. But it doens't mean you get to rub it in my face and make my night even worse that what it started off as when you jumped into my car like a maniac.”

“That's really not what I-”

Putting a hand on her shoulder to try and hold her back was a mistake. Steve realised that the moment that he did it. First of all because she wasn't wearing much on her shoulders and you shouldn't touch someone else's skin without asking. Secondly, because Peggy immediately took hold of his wrist, bent it backwards painfully, and then swept the feet from under him.

Steve went down. Hard. He grappled for something to hold onto to ease the fall, and Natasha somehow decided to walk past him right at this moment. Out of some horribly misplaced reflex, he grabbed the fabric of her dress.

It tore. Of course it tore. The sound of ripping fabric attracted the attention of almost everyone in the room. There were a few scandalized gasps at Natasha's now vaguely indecent state (although Steve noted that her torn dress still ended up longer than the dancers' skirts.) Then the collective surprised turner to anger as people decided to find a culprit for what had just happened, instead of letting it be just an accident. Peggy's stance was defensive enough that all stares gathered on her.

She blanched.

Steve stared at her from his place on the floor.

She ran.


	4. Chapter 3: Make 'Em Laugh

“Steve, you need to stop obsessing.”

“I'm not obsessing! I just... feel guilty. It wasn't really her fault. And I tried explaining that, but no one would believe me. It's so stupid! I _told them_.”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah, you did. And that means you've got nothing to worry yourself about. You did everything you could. You tried to do right by her, but other people got in the way. Sad story, maybe, but it's time you move on now. It's been weeks.”

Steve didn't know if he could turn the page that easily. Every time he thought of Peggy, a bitter taste spread through his mouth. She'd been _fired_ because of him. That wasn't right. She hadn't done anything to deserve that. And the way she'd reacted when Steve had commented on her job as a dancer had implied she couldn't afford to lose her income. That made Steve feel even worse than he normally would have.

He knew what it meant to do everything you could to find a way to scrape by. He knew how it felt to receive bad news after bad news and to feel overwhelmed by it all. He knew from first-hand experience how that dance was danced, and he wouldn't wish the experience on his worst enemies.

Bucky sighed next to him, which finally stopped Steve's ruminations. He looked at his partner, and noticed the resignation in his eyes, the greyness of his gaze that announced dark skies to come.

Steve went through their conversation again. He recalled his memories of the past two weeks and the number of times Bucky had insisted he stopped worrying over this “dancer girl” of his. And then he realised.

Steve mentally kicked himself. _Shit_. Bucky was jealous.

Bucky was jealous, because Steve kept worrying about Peggy. He kept _talking_ about Peggy. Bucky was jealous, even though he didn't even know about the way Steve had looked at her when he was sitting in her car. He didn't know about Steve thinking that she had looked so pretty. He didn't even _need_ to know that to know that something was going on.

This was bad. This was _really_ bad. Steve hadn't done anything, and he'd already managed to fuck up the most important relationship of his life.

“I'm sorry,” he started. “I know I should let it go. It's just... she helped me out. With the car thing, and she drove me to the tailor. She didn't have to, she had every reason not to, but she still helped me out. And then I repaid her by getting her fired, you know? It doesn't seem fair. That's why it's been on my mind so much.”

Turned out it wasn't easy to convince his boyfriend that his obsession with a woman he barely knew was _mostly_ rooted in actual guilt and not in the vague feelings of desire he had felt when confronted to her fierceness. Especially considering he could under no circumstance admit to those feelings of desire.

“Yeah, well. Like I said. You did your best. There's nothing more to be done. So get over it and get back to work, will you? These silly movies aren't gonna make themselves.”

Bucky was making a really good point, but Steve was derailed from it by his last sentence.

“Do you... Do you really think the movies I make are silly?”

This was hitting a little too close to home. A little too close to what Peggy had said about cinema's lack of an identity, lack of dignity. He didn't want to admit that the woman's critiques had actually bothered him but... here the proof was. Not in the pudding, but in Bucky's mouth. The place he trusted most in the world.

Bucky – on his part – seemed utterly confused by the sudden seriousness of Steve's tone. He stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“Just right now. You said they were silly movies. Do you... Do you think that?”  
Bucky frowned. “Where is this coming from?

He was avoiding the question. He was avoiding the question, and that could only mean one thing, couldn't it? Bucky had been honest and he didn't want to lie just to make Steve feel better.

“It's not coming from anywhere!” Steve protested, unable to let this go. “You're the one who just called them that!”

“Okay, but I say stupid shit about your career all the time. And you've never reacted this way before.”

“Does it change anything? What does it change if I only react to it now? You still said it. So I'm asking you if you meant it. It's not that hard a question, is it?”

Bucky furrowed his brows. “Well... It kind of is, actually. Because it's not about you. You're a great actor. It's impossible not to see that. But the movies... I mean...”

Steve stared at him pointedly, forcing him to go on. He didn't care if it hurt. He needed to know. Maybe he _wanted_ it to hurt, just a little. It would be a change from his usually oh-so-cushioned life.

“The movies themselves... could be better, I guess. They're not exactly the most inspired pieces of art there ever was. But that's not on you! You make them much better than they could have been honestly!”

“That's...” Steve wanted to say something. Defend himself. Defend this art form he tried his best to believe in every day. Anything. But words were failing him. He'd never been good at writing his own dialogue.

“Hey.” Bucky said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It shouldn't bother you. You're doing great things. You're doing the best you can, but you're also just doing _great_. There's a reason everybody and their dog knows your name, Steve. You're good. And besides... It doesn't really matter, does it? It doesn't really matter if it's not the best script of the century. That's not what people want from the cinema. They want to get out of their head. They want to cry. They want to laugh. And you-” He took his hand off Steve's shoulder to point at his nose. “You make them laugh. _You_ make that happen.”

Steve took a few seconds to absorb Bucky's words. He sighed. “Thanks. That's good to hear, I guess.”

There was a bitter twist to Bucky's mouth even as he tried to smile. It maddened Steve that he wasn't able to just kiss away the offending expression. It maddened him that he had to hide and pretend, that his job didn't stop after the end of production, but that he had to keep lying 24/7.

It maddened him that people couldn't just understand that he loved Bucky, that the other man was the most important person in his life, that Steve would give his life for him. As many times as he needed to.

It maddened him that something that brought him such joy and such comfort, that brought him a sense of certainty in the universe's ultimate benevolence, could be found dirty and disgusting by others.

Because Bucky _was_ proof of the world's good nature. Bucky was everything that Steve didn't deserve but had somehow gotten anyway.

“It doesn't have to...” Bucky started. “Not everything has to _mean_ something, you know? Sure, it would be great to be the next Shakespeare or whatever. But how many people actually care about Shakespeare? Like, genuinely care. Not just as a matter of clout. Not that many, I would bet. Sometimes it's better just to make something fun, something that speaks to people _right now_. Who cares whether it's perfect, whether it's a masterpiece? Who cares whether it's 'high art' or any of that? It if makes someone smile a little, isn't that good enough?”

Steve... really wanted to kiss Bucky right then. He knew he couldn't, knew that their lunch break taken on studio grounds wasn't the place for it but... _damnit_. That didn't change a thing. Bucky was there, and he was gorgeous and kind and smart and talented, and Steve wanted him so much it _hurt_.

So Steve leaned into his personal space, because that was the next best thing, and whispered in his ear. “I want to kiss you so much right now. Remind me of this conversation when we get home.”

And then he leaned away, winked, and started walking again. Bucky was dumbfounded for a few seconds but caught up easily, a slight blush lingering on his cheeks.

Steve's day had suddenly taken a much better turn.

His luck held strong as they walked past the set for some clothing advertisement that involved an entire company of dancers. Steve couldn't fathom how many pieces of clothing they expected to sell if they could pay all of these people to come into the studio just for an _ad_. But that was their problem.

Steve's problem was one of the dancers, whom he immediately recognized.

Bucky would probably hate him a little for this, but Steve didn't have a choice. He had to stop.

“That's a wrap!” The director called.

Steve sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the perfect timing. If they were done filming, he didn't have to feel guilty about approaching Peggy Carter and trying to apologize. Well, not any guiltier than knowing Bucky disapproved made him.

“I'm sorry,” Steve told the man in question, as honestly as he could. “I'll just be a minute, I promise.”

Bucky had followed his gaze towards the dance troupe. His eyes were cold, but he nodded.

Steve walked onto the set, trying not to feel like an intruder. Of course, Peggy noticed his approach. She froze. Steve really needed to stop doing that to her. He was trying to be nice. He was trying to make things _right_. Not scare her.

Peggy looked him in the eye, then gestured towards an exit with her head. She then said goodbye to her castmates and walked off, as if nothing was the matter.  
She wasn't just a dancer, then. She was also a good actress.  
Steve followed her, doing his best to blend into the background. He didn't want to draw attention to Peggy or what they were both doing. It helped that most people working for Monumental were either used to his presence or pretending they were so they wouldn't look like newbies.

They both slipped through a door that led outside of the set warehouse, and Peggy leaned back against a wall. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you want?

Steve figured he would need to be direct and make himself understood as quickly as possible.

“To apologize. And to help. If I can.”

Peggy eyes him warily. “What do you have to apologize for?”

“Everything! For keeping on bothering you and intruding on your life. For costing you your job. I tried to tell everyone that it was my fault, but they wouldn't listen. Even Natasha tried to tell them it wasn't a big deal – You know, Natasha was the one whose dress got torn.”

“You mean Natalie Roman? Your girlfriend, isn't she?”

“She- Wait. What?”

Peggy gave him a pointed look. Steve scrambled for something to say through the sudden static in his brain.

“That's what all the magazines say.”

“You read the fan magazines?” Steve asked with some confusion. “I thought you weren't one for cinema.”

“Oh, I pick up one or two, from time to time.” She seemed embarrassed. It was somewhat cute, but Steve once again felt a pang of guilt at the fact that he was making her skittish and uncomfortable. “In waiting rooms, that sort of thing. They publish casting calls, sometimes.”

“Oh.” They were back on the subject of her lost job, then. Steve wasn't done with the earlier topic, though. It was probably a bad idea, but he didn't want to lie to Peggy, not even by ommission. “You shouldn't believe everything those magazines tell you. Natasha and I aren't really dating. It's just... publicity.”

Peggy's face looked... blank. The sort of neutrality that could only be artificial, that could only be hiding something. Part of Steve wanted to poke at it, but he also didn't want to end up with his ass on the ground again.

“About the job, though. I could... I could help you get onto one or two casting lists, if you want.”

“I don't need char-”

“No promises of you getting a role. You'll still have to try out like everyone else, but at least it guarantees they'll hear you out. It's not a favor. It was my fault you lost your other job. The least I can do is try to help you now. You deserve a fair shot.”

Peggy kept on eyeing him carefully for a minute, silent. Then she sighed. “Fine. I need the money, I guess I don't have the right to be picky.”

Steve couldn't stop himself from smiling at that answer, even if he knew it was inappropriate. He felt like meeting Peggy again could only be a gift of fate, a way for him to put things right. And he was damn well going to take the chance he had just been offered.


	5. Chapter 4: Have Lunch With Me

“You did a fine thing bringing us that girl, Steve,” Pierce said. His smile was affable, but there was a predatoriness to his eyes. Steve never knew what to think of the man. On the one hand, he had done a lot for his career and for the state of cinema in general. On the other hand, Steve couldn't help but think the man was in it more for the financial opportunities than for the art itself.

“That Peggy is doing a great job. We got her cast as Jane's sister in one of our romance flicks. It should be a nice way to introduce her to the public. Where did you find her again?”

Steve smiled. He wanted to throw up. Pierce had been one of the people responsible for Peggy losing her dancing job. Apparently, he hadn't bothered remembering either her name or her face.

“I met her at a party.”

“That's nice. It's great to finally see some new talent coming in.”

“I'm glad you're happy with her work, sir.”

“Yes. Her work. Of course, I should be letting you go back to yours.” Pierce smiled and clapped Steve on the back before he finally turned away. Steve rubbed his shoulderblade with a wince. The studio owner was surprisingly strong.

Bucky suddenly appeared at his side, having disappeared as soon as he had glimpsed Pierce heading their way from the other side of the eating area. He poked Steve right in the spot Pierce had hit him. Steve batted his hand away with a glare, but only earned himself a satisfied grin.

“That old leech really took his time sucking you dry. It's a shame, really. Other people want to get their turn.”

Steve had learned very quickly in his life that it was possible to roll your eyes even when you were blushing. He put that skill to good use right then.

“I don't know why I put up with you some days.”

Bucky shrugged. “My wit, excessive charm and dazzling personality. Also, my dick.”

“Right. Thanks for the reminder.”

Bucky grinned again. “Come on. I was actually told to come look for you. Breaktime's over, Fury needs you to start shooting again.

“Right. Let's get going then.”

Now that his debt had been paid, Steve had thought he would finally be able to stop thinking about Peggy. But of course life didn't work that way. He kept catching just the tiniest glimpses of her across sets, or hearing her name in conversations, and it was frustrating him to no ends.

It was frustrating him, because Steve had no idea what the universe was trying to tell him anymore. It was frustrating, because he had no idea what he himself wanted.

Feeling attracted to a stranger in a car was fine. It happened. He had caught Bucky's eyes lingering on another guy more than once. It didn't mean anything. Desire was normal. It was human.

But Peggy wasn't just a stranger in a car anymore. She was someone Steve had had conversations with. She was someone who occupied space in the same social circles as he did. She was pretty and smart and could kick his ass, and Steve was well aware that he had a type, thank you very much. (He sometimes wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been with Bucky when he had first met Natasha and if the woman had every expressed an interest in romantic relationships.)

All of that to say that Peggy wasn't really a stranger anymore, and that Steve couldn't deny that he felt attracted to her. And that was extremely confusing because he also knew, in a visceral way, that he was still head-over-heels in love with Bucky.

There was really only one thing to do in such circumstances, wasn't it? He was going to ignore those feelings until they went away.

It was the only reasonable solution.

Those feelings would pass. What he had with Bucky was forever. That was all that really mattered.

He couldn't help but wonder, though. He couldn't help but ask himself what it would be like, to have something with her. A Relationship. The kind with a capital R. He couldn't help but picture how easy it would be, to introduce Peggy as his girlfriend to anyone who asked. The tabloids would seize the story and romanticize it, there was no doubt about that. They would turn it into a charming tale of the pretty young woman with enough talent to make an established studio star fall for her. Peggy's career would explode, and Steve would have someone to hold his hand every time studio executives went on a rant against poor immigrant families within his earshot.

It was a beautiful dream. That was what made it dangerous. It was beautiful and simple. That beauty made it easy to ignore everything Steve would have to give up to get even just a taste of it.

He couldn't give up Bucky. Not for any dream that would probably just crash and burn as soon as it got too close to reality. Bucky was half his life. In the metaphorical sense. In temporal terms, he was even more than that, considering he and Steve had been joined at the hip since they were eight years old. But he was half of Steve's life, half of his soul, half of his heart. He was the one who comforted him when Steve started to shake, the one who always found the right words to make him laugh. He was safety and comfort, but excitement as well. You never knew what crazy idea he would get at any moment of the day. He was the soundtrack to all of Steve's routines, filling their house with piano and violin and singing, filling every nook of Steve's mind with it too.

Bucky was the one Steve had never been able to get enough of. He meant everything. Steve couldn't give that up because a pretty woman had been critical of his career choice. He couldn't.

Throughout his life, Steve had always believed. His mother had been catholic, and although he didn't keep much of that particular faith in practice, he was still convinced that the world had some kind of force guiding it. And that that force was benevolent.

He had to wonder what exactly that benevolent power expected from him when he arrived at an informal lunch party the studios had organized and found himself seated next to none other than Peggy Carter.

Steve wasn't too proud to admit that he blanched a little. He wasn't sure of how the woman would react to his presence considering that their acquaintance so far had been... Well. Rocky was one word for it. Despite Steve's best intention, he knew that Peggy probably still blamed him for what had happened to her last month.

He took the chair next to her with some trepidation. At least she was momentarily lost in conversation with someone else and didn't seem to have noticed him.

He used what little time he had to brace himself. He just had to breathe and act natural. No need to make a big deal out of it.

It didn't help that these kinds of events were usually taxing _even_ when his emotions weren't compromised. He always felt like everyone around him had an agenda they were trying to push, something they were trying to get out of their interlocutors. Of course, that was how show business worked. Steve wasn't naïve. He knew that. He had done the same at some point, when he'd been trying to find ways to survive and pay rent. But it felt different now, when he was surrounded by people who were already part of the elite. They already all had everything any normal person could ever want.

Now, it felt like those guests at the table were only playing for the game of it, not out of any kind of necessity.

Besides, Bucky had always been better at schmoozing than him. It was funny, really, that Steve was the one who had ended up becoming an actor. Bucky had been the one lying through his teeth throughout their childhood to try and get them out of all the messes Steve dragged them both into.

But that was the thing. Bucky could handle acting if there were real people there for him to read off. If there were stakes. Steve, on the other hand, was content with starting from a blank slate, drawing emotions from the ether to give life to dead words.

He really wished Bucky was here right now. He wished he had someone to help him decypher the double-meanings hidden in every casual sentence.

He wasn't sure what Bucky would have made of Peggy, if he had been invited. That was another kind of problem altogether.

He thought they might get along, actually. If circumstances permitted. Seeing how well Bucky and Natasha got on and considering Peggy's own brand of sharp wit, Steve could see no reason why they would dislike each other. Except for Steve himself, obviously.

Or maybe he was making everything seem worse than it was.

Maybe he was just projecting, and Bucky would actually be perfectly amenable to meet a new rising star in the cinema business and they would all go out for brunch and pick daisies on the way back.

_Right_ .

Also, Steve really needed to make sure Peggy was even willing to talk to him again before he started daydreaming about all of these things.

He drank some of the champagne that had already been served. Maybe that would help clear his head?

After what felt like ages, Peggy finally finished her previous conversation and turned towards him. She didn't seem surprised by his presence. It made sense. She'd probably looked at the guest list in advance. Steve remembered doing that, before. When a lunch like this at felt more like an opportunity than a chore.

At least the first look she gave him wasn't _entirely_ cold. Guarded, definitely, but Steve knew that that was fair.

“Hello,” he said. He didn't give her the kind of bright grin he usually treated all of the other studio people. Instead, he tried for something a little more low-key, a little more genuine. Something that had meaning. The kind of smile that didn't feel like acting.

He wasn't sure he had succeeded at all.

“Hi,” Peggy answered carefully.

Steve supposed it would have been pretentious to blame himself entirely for her attitute. Peggy was new in the acting world. She was probably trying to build up a good reputation. After all, the way casting directors saw you when you were starting off could end up definting your entire career. You had to put all of the cards in your hand from the beginning, or risk never being dealt in again.

What was he doing here? For the life of him, Steve couldn't remember why he had ever chosen this life amongst cut-throats and hypocrites. Was it really that much better than when he and Bucky had been performing comedy acts in seedy bars?

Of course it was. The fact that the rules of the game were the same didn't mean there wasn't a difference between playing with painted rocks or golden dice.

Steve drank more champagne. He had to think of the acting. The acting was good. The acting made him breathe. It was an activity he felt comfortable in, where he could be fully himself. Even if it was only himself-as-other-people. He had to focus on that. Forget all the rest.

He was just going to focus on the person in front of him and try to have a normal human conversation and not fuck up everything up.

“It's good to see you again,” he told Peggy, a little guardedly himself. “I've heard a lot about you in the past week. You're making quite an impression in the studio.”

Peggy shrugged. “People were hungry for new blood, I suppose. I'm just trying to make the most of it.”

“From what I've heard, you're more than just young blood to them. They say you have genuine talent. I don't doubt it for a second.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, but you should. You've never seen me act. If you make general statements about my abilities without having seen them for yourself, you're either very naïve or trying to get something from me. Both of which are highly suspicious.

Steve couldn't help himself. He wanted to smile. It was probably not the reaction Peggy was looking for, but Steve felt off-balance, invigorated by the prospect of a verbal fight, and he wanted to smile.

“Which one is it, Steve Rogers?”

Her lipstick was pretty. Bright red. An uncompromising color. Steve shouldn't have noticed that, but he did.

“Maybe a bit of both. I suppose I _am_ naïve. For certain things at least. And I do want something from you. Your forgiveness, if you can part with it. I don't think you should see me as suspicious, though. I'm just an optimist. I like to believe in people, no matter what.”

Peggy softened at that. “That's sweet of you. Although being an optimist in a world like this might be the most suspicious behavior of all. I do wonder what I'm supposed to forgive you for, though.”

“Well. Everything that happened between us, I guess.”

Peggy shook her head. “I got the best job I've ever held thanks to you. Now I can dance at rich people's parties without getting paid for it. What more could I ask for?”

They shared a short laugh, awkwardly.

“I find that the settling of debts sometimes goes hand in hand with a form of resentment,” Steve said.

She studied him for a moment. It could have felt invasive, but Steve felt flattered that she was finally seeing something worth assessing in him.

“That might be true,” Peggy admitted. “Why involve yourself so much though? I'm not anything to you. Does it really matter whether I forgive you or not? Whether I feel any resentment? It's not as if I could ever be a threat to your career.”

Steve was grappling for an answer, anything that wasn't _you interest me._ Anything other than _you're something I want but can't have and I can't stop thinking about you._

“I think it does matter. I can't explain why exactly. Could you just indulge me? Call it a whim.”

Peggy huffed out an amused breath. “I guess I can be amenable to that. Consider yourself forgiven, then. For jumping into my car like a risk-prone maniac and for losing me an absolutely awful job.”

“Thank you. I feel much relieved.”

Peggy rolled her eys good-naturedly. “Of course you do.”

Steve raised his glass of champagne, once again discretely re-filled by a waiter. “To a new beginning between us, then.”

“To a new beginning.”

The clink of their glasses was lost to the din of the room. It seemed to seal something nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of what I call the "exposition arc" so... I hope you're excited for the rest!


	6. Chapter 5: Beautiful Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains internalized homophobia, polyphobia (? is that a word???) and references to period-typical homophobic attitudes.  
> Yeah, this is the slightly darker part of the story.

The studio lunch had become a lot easier to deal with once he'd found someone to drink with. It turned out that Peggy was as morally uncomfortable with the political games being played across the table as he was. She was a much better player than him, though. She viewed it as a kind of necessary evil and there was a glint in her eye at times that made him think of something quiet but deadly. The only reason she was laying low for now was that she didn't know all the rules of the game yet.

Peggy Carter was also very good at handling her alcohol. Steve was as well, and there wasn't any reason for them both to hold back considering it was pretty much customary for everyone to get shitfaced at those studio gatherings. And so, they drank. _A lot_. To a point where their high tolerance didn't really matter anymore, the boundary between sober and drunk having become fuzzy along with the rest of reality.

Work lunches were really a lot more fun this way. Steve felt warm and light. He felt _nice_. He actually _meant it_ when he and Peggy wished the other guests a nice day as they left. It felt good to say such a thing out of actual feeling and not just a sense of duty. When had he become the kind of person who forgot that?

He and Peggy walked out of the restaurant together and moved in the same direction. They stopped at a crossorad. Steve felt like he had bubbles in his lungs. Sunlight was peeking through the clouds and a pretty lady was looking at him and smiling like he was in on the joke.

Steve reached out a hand and touched her cheek. He didn't really know what he wanted to do. Maybe run his thumb along the line of her lips, to the corner where her lipstick had smudged a little while she'd been eating.

He didn't really know what he wanted to do besides touch her skin. So he did just that.

And then immediately recoiled.

He stared at his hand as if it had suddenly turned into a viper.

Panicked, he looked up at Peggy again. She was frowning at him, obviously confused. She took Steve's hand in hers. “It's okay. You can touch me if you want.” She raised his hand towards her cheek again. Steve withdrew it as soon as she'd let go.

“That's not the problem. _You're_ not the problem, I just... I can't do this.”

“Why not?” Peggy asked. “I thought you didn't have a girlfriend? I though the rumors in the fan magazines weren't true?”

Steve's brain was too muddled from the alcohol to find an appropriate answer. He hadn't even been thinking about that silly game of his fake relationship with Natasha.

“Steve?”

He shook his head. “I can't. I... I do. I do have... someone.”

Peggy's frown deepened. “Oh.” And then it seemed to dawn on her. The neutral language. The unwillingness to give any more specific detail. “ _Oh_.”

Just liked that, Steve knew he had screwed up. He had screwed up _everything_. He had just put his longest and only relationship in danger. He had just ruined the one connection that mattered to him by flirting with a woman he barely knew. He had betrayed Bucky's trust and everything they had invested in keeping their love for each other a secret. Because he was drunk and unwilling to lie.

“I'm going to be sick.” Steve realized as he said it that it wasn't an exaggeration. He ran towards a trash can and bent over it. The smell emenating from the waste didn't help keep any of his insides... well, _inside._ It was still better than making a mess on the sidewalk or on Peggy's shoes.

Knowing his luck, that could very well have happened.

“Shit. I'm sorry, Steve,” Peggy started. “I thought...”

She didn't finish her sentence, and instead rested a hand on his back as he continued to retch. Steve should pull away. He should push her away, promise her anything she wanted in exchange for her silence and then do his best to forget her, alongside how much of a fuck-up he was.

He shouldn't have to resist the urge to lean into her touch.

His stomach finally settled down, and Steve pulled back from the trash can. His throat felt raw, just like his nerves. His vision was swimming a little.

Peggy took his upper arm and guided him until they were both sitting down on a stranger's frontstep. Steve felt a strong urge to lay his head down between his knees and wait for the entire world to disappear.

He heard Peggy rummage in her purse, and then a handkerchief was thrust into his hands.

Steve didn't say thank you. He just wiped his mouth and closed his fist around the piece of fabric. He didn't know if he should offer it back, considering what he had just covered it with.

“I'm sorry,” Peggy finally said.

Steve wanted to laugh at how surreal the whole situation was. “What do you have to be sorry for? He managed to croak out. His voice felt like it belonged to another man.

“I think I misread you. Or... the situation. I didn't want to... make you uncomfortable.”

Steve put his head between his hands, elbows on his knees. He tried to take a few deep breaths.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn't misread anything. I was... I acted stupidly. I don't know what I was doing.”

Steve wished he could be young and tiny again. He wished he could be meaningless again. That the gazes of everyone would just slide over him without catching. He wished he could disappear.

“I'm not...” Peggy stopped, considering her words before speaking. “If it can reassure you, I'm not gonna say anything. To anyone. That would be...” She paused again. “I mean, I guess I know a lot of people who would. But it wouldn't be right. I don't want to be that kind of person. So... for what it's worth... I won't tell anyone.”

Steve finally dared look up at her. She smiled. His stomach churned.

“I know you don't have much to go on, so it's okay if you don't trust me. I just want you to know anyway.”

“I think the problem is that it's too easy too trust you. It must be that naïveté we were talking about.” Puking his guts out had definitely had the one benefit of sobering him up quickly, if the return of his ability to use three-syllable French words in casual conversation was anything to go on.

“See, that's what confused me. You say things like this so casually, I thought... Well, I guess we're past acting all proper about it. I thought you were flirting with me.”

Steve sighed. “I was.” Steve looked away again. He didn't want to know whether there was any disgust on her face. “I guess I _am_ past acting proper. Might as well admit to everything. I _was_ flirting with you. Which says horrible things about me, because I'm in a relationship. I'm in a relationship with a man who loves me to death and who I adore more than anything. And I was still flirting with you.”

Steve's heart was hammering in his chest. This was the first time he had ever told anyone about his relationship with Bucky. Pierce and Natasha knew, sure, but he hadn't _told_ them. The three of them just played along in silence, dancing around the elephant in the room.

It felt good, in a sense, to say those words aloud. It came with a certain kind of relief.

“Objectively, I have everything I could ever want from this world. I have a world-class career. Enough money to keep whatever charity I want afloat and still drink champagne for breakfast. A loving relationship. I have everything I should ever want and despite it all it seems I still want _you_.”

“Oh.”

Steve wanted to erase his own existence. At the same time, he wanted to keeping airing out all of the dark things in his mind. Because, for once, he could. For once, it was too late for caution, and so he might as well throw it out the window, right? He'd always been good at that.

“You can leave, if you want,” Steve continued. He didn't care how painful the words were. He was already hurting all over. “I wouldn't hold it against you. I'm a queer and a cheater. You should run while you have the chance, before I drag you down with me.”

The last thing he had expected in that moment was for Peggy to put a hand on his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the touch.

“I don't think you're as bad a person as you make yourself out to be, Steve Rogers. You haven't cheated on him. That man of yours. Have you?”

Steve shook his head. “I thought about it, though. Isn't that just as bad?”

Peggy squeezed his shoulder again. Why was she being so nice? Why didn't she understand that it was making everything so much worse? It would have been better for the _both of them_ if she had just left. She would have escaped his bullshit, and he would have escaped the temptation.

“That's not how it works, Steve. That's not how human beings work. We all want things. Most of the time, we want things we feel we can't have. It's in our nature, to a point.”

“It shouldn't be. How easy is it, to say it's in our nature? We drive cars and make talking pictures now. We've overcome nature in so many ways. Why shouldn't this be one of them?”

“You can't think like that. You can't change your feelings by reasoning them away.”

“I owe it to him to at least try.”

Peggy huffed out a breath that might have been a bitter laugh in another life. “It's admirable, if pig-headed, that you'd think like that. It really is. You're trying so hard to atone for something you didn't even _do_. Your... boyfriend-” She hesitated for a second before saying the word. Considering most people wouldn't have been able to say it at all, Steve didn't hold it against her. “will understand. If he loves you half as much as you love him, he'll understand and he'll forgive you. It will all be okay.”

“What if it's not, though? What if it's not okay, and it keeps happening? What if I keep thinking of other people and what if I end up feeling like he's not enough anymore and what if I screw up the best thing in my life?”

“There's no point panicking about something before it happens. You can't predict the future, but keeping on like this is just going to turn your fears into self-fulfilling prophecies.”

“You need to stop.”

Peggy startled. “Pardon me?”

“You need to stop being so nice and so smart and so...” He gestured aimlessly. “I don't know. Everything. _You_. It's making things extremely complicated. It's making me think about how much I could love you if I didn't already love him. And that's... that's really not helping, right now.”

“Steve...”

“Let's just leave it at that. Okay? I'm tired.”

He tried to stand up, but wobbled slightly. His head was still throbbing and his knees felt weak. Great.

“I'll help you get home.”

“Don't. I've caused you so much trouble already. We need to... I just told you you need to stop being nice to me.”

“Suck it up, Steve Rogers. I don't care. You look like hell-” Steve winced. “so I'm going to get you home.”

The world wasn't making sense anymore. Steve was trying to decypher what the universe wanted from him. He really was. But he couldn't make heads nor tails of anything that was happening anymore.

Somehow, with his whole body shaking and Peggy shooting him concerned glances the whole way, he managed to hail a cab and give out his address. He didn't even try to guess whether the driver had recognized him or not. He couldn't bring himself to care.


	7. Chapter 6: The Stage Is Set

Steve was still fumbling with his keys and trying to make his hands stop shaking when Bucky opened the door. It figured.

“Hey-” Bucky trailed off as soon as he'd opened his mouth. He assessed the situation, gaze moving from Steve to Peggy and back again. “What's wrong? Wait. Come in first. Then explain.”

Steve shuffled in. He _tried_ to look like he wasn't regretting every single choice that had led him to this moment in his life, but he probably failed. He was feeling pretty miserable right then.

He realised a few seconds too late that Peggy was entering the house with him. That wasn't right. He looked up at her, vaguely panicked, but she didn't meet his gaze.

“Let's... sit down in the living-room, I guess?” Bucky said. It was obvious he didn't know what to make of Peggy being here. They didn't have guests over _ever,_ because them living together was enough to raise questions. That alone made Peggy's presence uncomfortable. And then there was Bucky's previous jealousy towards her, Steve's obsession and... Well. What had happened earlier.

Steve didn't want Bucky to hate Peggy. He didn't want Bucky to hate _him_.

“What's happening?” Bucky asked once they had all sat down. He directed the question towards Peggy, which was a nice gesture insofar as it left Steve free to have his little existential crisis in peace. It all felt _very wrong_.

“It's a little... complicated,” Peggy started. “I'm not sure...”

“I should be the one explaining,” Steve forced himself to say. It wasn't that he wanted to. _God,_ he really didn't want to. “This whole thing is on me.”

Bucky's eyes came to rest on him. Steve looked down, but he could still feel them. The gaze felt cold, although Steve knew that probably wasn't what Bucky was trying to project.

“First of all, I got drunk. And I'm not saying that as a way to blame any of what I did on the alcohol. That's not the point. I know I'm responsible, it's just... The alcohol was definitely an enabling context.”

“I hope you realize that this prelude of yours is real fucking scary,” Bucky cut in. He then apologized to Peggy for swearing.

She shrugged and said something casual about it not being her home, and so not being her rules.

It was ridiculous and Steve hated himself.

“I'm not trying to make things worse, I promise.” Bucky raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Steve took one long breath in. Then out. “I'm attracted to Peggy.”

He paused, looking at his feet. The silence was a heavy weight across his shoulders.

“But I still love you,” he said, barely above a whisper. He didn't know if he still deserved to say those words.

When he finally looked up, Bucky was staring at Peggy like he expected her to turn into a pile of snakes.

That might have had something to do with Steve dropping the L-word while someone else was in the room. They'd never been able to do that.

Peggy seemed to have had the same thought.

“I already knew,” she explained, calm and collected. She always seemed so confident, despite the fact that this situation _had_ to be making her uncomfortable. “I don't... I don't mind what you two are to each other. It's not... I mean... Sorry.” She smiled self-depricatingly. “I guess I don't know how to say this. I just want you to know I won't say anything to anyone.”

Bucky was frowning. “That's... good. I guess.” He turned towards Steve again, who felt like now would have been a good time to burst into flame. With all the alcohol he'd imbibed, it would have made a remarkable display.

“What did you mean when you said you're attracted to her?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to make this a big deal. I didn't want to make this a deal at all. I wasn't going to do or say anything. But I had too much to drink and I just... let go.”

“What happened?”

Bucky had spoken to Peggy again.

“He didn't do anything,” she started. “We flirted over lunch. Obviously I didn't know about you, and he had told me that the rumours about him and Natalie Roman were fake so... I thought he was available. We had a lot to drink, that's true. We were walking back together and Steve... Steve laid his hand on my cheek at some point. I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he withdrew. I thought he was scared. But then... Then he explained about you. I thought it'd be better if I helped him get home. If we could explain everything.”

Bucky looked from one of them to the other, his face a mask.

“I didn't want to cheat on you,” Steve said. The words felt cheap, like an admission of guilt. Like they were a lie, even though Steve meant them with all of his heart. “I really didn't. I thought this could stay... a fantasy. An abstract desire. A dream. It's not because you want something that you actually need to _get it_ , you know? Sometimes you know the actions leading to what you want aren't right. I know this isn't right.”

“You laid your hand on her cheek?” Bucky asked tonelessly.

“Yeah.”

“Why the fuck should I care about that?”

He said it softly, without force. Like the words had to be dragged out of his body. Like he was tired.

Steve thought he had heard wrong, at first. But he couldn't have. He was paying too much attention.

“What?”

“Why should I care? Seriously, Steve. Why should I care that you touched someone's fucking cheek?”

“That's not...”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair; then over his face. “This isn't a big deal. The fact that you're _making it_ one is scaring me a little but that's... That's another issue. The point is, you didn't cheat on me. And that's good. That means we can actually have a constructive discussion. Or we could, if you would get your head out of your own ass and actually _look at me_ for more than a second.”

He raised his voice at the end of the sentence, which startled Steve enough that he sat up out of pure reflex.

He did pause to look at Bucky's face then. He didn't know what to make of his expression. He didn't look angry. Irritated, maybe, and tired. Confused. _Scared_.

“I love you,” Bucky said. His eyes moved quickly towards Peggy. The woman was graceful enough not to react in any visible way. “I know we don't get to say that to each other a lot, but it's true. I also know... Well. You've been talking about Peggy a whole lot since you met her.” Another quick glance, as if to gauge her reaction. She wasn't showing anything. Probably she knew this conversation wasn't about her just yet. “So I _guessed_ that there was something more going on. I didn't want... I didn't want to bring it up, because I was kind of scared what the result would be if I pointed it out for you. But obviously you didn't need me to do that.” Bucky tried to smile. It was a decent attempt. “So I just... I don't know. I love you. That's not something I can imagine changing right now. But it's also... it's my problem, I guess. Not your responsibility. The only thing I want from you is that you be honest. If you don't love me the same way anymore. I would rather you break up with me than pretend everything is fine while you're having fun on the side with someone else.”

The sensation Steve felt was very similar to the urge to throw up that had overtaken him earlier with Peggy. He knew there was nothing left in his stomach to puke out, however. Which was probably a good thing. The living-room carpet was very expensive.

“I don't want to break up with you.” Nothing Steve had ever said felt as important as these words. This was a truth he breathed, a truth that permeated every cell in his being. “I love you.” Saying _that_ aloud again felt both relieving and redundant. It was like pointing at himself and stating that he was alive. “I can't imagine my life without you, Buck. That hasn't changed.” He knew his tone was pleading. He didn't care. He was ready to beg on his knees if it could make the man he loved understand.

“Yeah, okay,” Buck replied carefully. “But what does that mean for Peggy then?”

Steve was thrown for a loop, which wasn't doing anything for his stomach right about then. He hadn't expected Bucky to be concerned _for_ Peggy. He had thought it was pretty clear that she had to be marked down as a mistake, and that they would have to keep away from each other. They could put their acting talents to good use in pretending in front of everyone at the studio that nothing was wrong between them.

“I don't... I mean, I just thought we... wouldn't see each other again.” Where was his legendary charisma when he needed it? “I mean, we'll have to _see_ each other at work, if she stays at Monumental but...”

“Do you really like her,” Bucky asked. “or do you just _want_ her?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is your obsession with her fleeting and purely physical, or do you actually _like_ her? Are those feelings something that will just disappear and be forgotten if you two don't interact, or will it just get worse because you'll miss her?”

“I don't know,” Steve replied honestly.

Bucky sighed. “It would be stupid to tell you both never to see each other again, and then have you get miserable over it. I don't want that.”

“Then what do you...?”

“I think you should give it a shot.”

Steve was confused. He was _trying_. He really was. He didn't feel like it was his fault that every other sentence of this conversation left him speechless and fumbling. He wasn't in his best shape, sure, but even then.

“Give it a shot?”

“See what your relationship becomes.”

That word. _Relationship_. That word which could be so innocent, but also feel so _terribly_ loaded. That word could mean so many things. Could he really just wait and see which would stick?

“I thought you-” Part of him wanted to say _I thought you loved me_. It wasn't right. It was accusatory, and called into question something Bucky had just gone through great lengths to assert. “I thought you wanted us to stay-”

“It's not-” Bucky looked up at the ceiling. Steve hated the fact that they were all sitting on different couches and armchairs. He wanted to be close to his partner. He wanted, so desperately, for someone to touch him. Bucky sighed. “I want to stay with you as long as you'll let me,” he continued. “But I also don't want to be taking things away from you. That's not how this is supposed to work. That's not how I want it to work.”

“So you're saying... What, that I could try things out with Peggy but we'd still have-” He gestured at the space between them. “This?” It was such a small word. Such an inaccurate way to describe what Steve actually meant. Everything the two of them were to each other. Everything they had been, everything they had gone through together.

Bucky shrugged, failing to appear casual. “I guess. I don't know how it's going to work either. But I know the maybes will eat at you if you don't do _something_. They'll eat at me too. I might not be an actor, but I know how this world works. I know you'll both see each other at parties and lunches and whatever. Things I'm not invited to. I'm not strong enough not to wonder. I'll never be able not to imagine all the things that you might be doing without telling me.”

There was a _not after this, not after today_ hidden somewhere in that last sentence, and Steve felt it go through his chest like a knife.

“At least this way I'll know. If you actually tell me what's going on, if I know for sure... I think it would be easier. I think it would be okay. Of course I can't really promise that. I can't be sure. But I think it's worth a try. Because the alternative would be worse in any case. And if I have half a chance not to lose you, I'm going to hold on with everything I've got.”

Steve breathed in. And then he started crying. He couldn't help it, couldn't hold back. He didn't want to hold back, because those tears spoke volume in a moment when he felt incapable of uttering a single word. He was grateful. He was so, _so_ grateful to have this man in his life. This man who had always held him close and with enough ferocity to send the whole world running. Steve didn't feel like he deserved him. Not right then, and not on most days. But he wouldn't give him up for anything. Karmic balance could go fuck itself if it was gonna try to take Bucky away from him.

“Thank you,” he finally managed to say through the sobs. “Thank you. I have no idea what I'm even doing, but you're giving me so much. And I need you to know how grateful I am. I need you to know that I _see_ it and it means so much to me and I love you.”

Bucky nodded and smiled. It was a small, shy thing. With maybe a hint of sadness to it. But it was at least trying to be warm, and that was enough. It was enough, because anything that Bucky was willing to give would always be enough.

Steve wanted to reach out. He wanted to put his arm around Bucky's neck, his hands in his hair, his tongue in his mouth. He wanted Bucky as close to him as was physically possible, maybe closer still. He wanted Bucky to know how much he had meant those last three words.

But Peggy was there, and the things they had said were already something she should never have heard. He didn't want to invite her further into their privacy. Not right now.

Peggy cleared her throat. It was a pretty obvious way to get their attention back on her, but it did the job. “I feel like maybe it's my turn to get a say in all of this. Now that we've reached this point.”

“Of course,” Steve immediately replied. He felt a blush rise to his cheek. They'd had this whole conversation about his feelings for her and she hadn't said _anything_.

“This whole thing is... complicated,” Peggy started, ever the diplomat. “And a little scary. But I guess I'm not the kind of woman who gets discouraged by that.”

Steve smiled. That sounded like such an understatement. Peggy had always given him the impression that she wouldn't get discouraged by _anything_.

“But I'm also not the homewrecker kind.” She turned towards Bucky. “What you're doing is incredibly generous. I feel like the least I can do is be honest with you. I really like Steve. Our first meeting was a bit of a mess but... I want to learn more about him. Very selfishly, I would like to try this out. But I don't want to take things away from either of you. I don't want to be the kind of person who ruins things for others to get what I want.” She turned towards Steve with a small smile. “I'm sorry Steve but... You're not important enough yet for me to compromise my principles.”

Steve let out a strangled laugh. “That's okay. I think I can live with that.”

“Good.” Peggy focused on Bucky again. “So yes. I want to try this. But only ever with your approval. Only on your conditions. And you have the right to change those at any point. I can't pretend that I'll be happy about it if you do. I won't pretend that what we both want won't be at odds at times. We've got to be upfront about it if this is in any way going to work.”

“You sound like a smart woman,” Bucky said. “I guess I should have known Steve would have good taste.”

Peggy laughed. A crystalline sound that echoed through the room. A sound that seemed to purify the air. A sound so _right_ it seemed to extend its quality to the whole situation.


	8. Chapter 7: You Were Meant For Me

Seeing Peggy out after their long and emotional conversation with Bucky had been... weird. Awkward. The two of them had admitted that they liked each other, but they had also done so in Steve and his boyfriend's house and started a relationship crisis. It left things a little unclear as to where they stood now.

They stopped at the doorway for a moment, facing each other but not moving. A kiss felt like too much, like pushing their luck or taking advantage of Bucky. But a casual goodbye wasn't right either.

“So.” Peggy started.

“So.”

She searched Steve's face for a second. “You should get some rest. Take some time to talk things out with Bucky and to just... be with each other. Then... Well. I'll see you in the studios in two days.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. We should meet up afterwards. Talk as well.”

“I'd like that.” Peggy smiled, soft and sweet.

Maybe as sweet as what her lips would taste like. The lipstick she had worn at the studio lunch was long gone by then. Steve wasn't sure how late it was. He felt _tired_.

“Me too.”

Peggy extended her hand. Steve took it out of reflex, though he felt a little thrown off by the gesture. Peggy squeezed his fingers, then let her own drag against his skin as she withdrew.

“Take care, Steve Rogers. I'll see you soon.”

And with that, she turned away. She didn't look back. Perhaps she didn't allow herself to do it. Steve couldn't complain, as it gave him the possibility to watch her leave without consideration for the expression on his face.

She really was beautiful. All composed grace and assurance, a neat figure that was deceptively non-threatening. She was beautiful, and she wanted to get to know Steve. Despite all the things that had gone wrong between them, despite the disaster of their first meeting, despite the fact that Steve had cost her a job... Despite all that, she was giving him a chance. And Bucky was giving him the right to take it.

Standing on his porch, Peggy long gone, the salt of tears still prickling on his skin, the sourness of vomit still lingering in his mouth and fatigue seeping through his bones, Steve promised himself he would do anything to pay the universe back for this chance.

When he came back inside, Bucky was leaning on the bar they had installed at one end of their living-room. He looked up as Steve came in and raised a tumbler half-filled with amber liquid.

“I think I'm good on that front, thanks,” Steve said, stomach twisting.

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah. I guess you are.” He downed the rest of his glass.

Steve winced at the sound of it being put down on the bar with unnecessary force. It made his head echo with pain. He wasn't going to complain about it, however. Not when Bucky had all the right in the world to be angry.

“I'm sorry all of this happened this way,” Steve started. “I know it's easy to say that after the fact. But I really am. I fucked up horribly and you didn't have any reason to forgive me for it. But you listened anyway and that... that means a lot. I do love you, you know? I hope I can prove that.”

Bucky shrugged again, looking away. Steve tried to rememer how to breathe. Bucky's fingers started tapping against his glass.

After a few seconds – which to Steve's heart had felt like a lifetime of skipped beats – Bucky raised his eyes again. “I just don't want you to leave me behind.”

There was so much fear in that pale gaze. A terror Steve hadn't seen since what felt like a lifetime ago, Bucky looking down at the arm he could barely feel and wondering if he would ever play music again.

Bucky ran a hand across his face, wiping away tears that hadn't fallen. Steve hadn't seen him cry since the funeral of his own mother.

“I know you love me, okay? I know. It's been of the only constant in my life. I _have_ to know. But it's just... It would be so easy. For you. It would be so much easier. You could settle down with Peggy. Have a family. Have the kind of life that all the magazines expect you to have. You wouldn't get blackmailed into fake relationships. You would never have to worry about people digging too deep. You wouldn't have to be careful anymore. You could have a life.”

“I have one,” Steve protested. “I have a life. Here. With you.” He gestured at the house around them. “You, this home. That's my life.”

Bucky huffed out a bitter breath. “What we have isn't a life. It's a dirty little secret.”

Steve couldn't stop his recoil. “You don't think that. Please. Bucky. Tell me you don't think that. I know that we can't... I know that it's hard. Hiding. I know I keep arguing that we need to be careful because I could lose my job. But if it comes to choosing between losing my job and losing you, I would tell the whole world. I would kiss you on Times Square, fuck what anyone thinks about it.”

“Load of good that would do,” Bucky replied with a weak smile. “I'd get murdered by your fans in the next minute.”

“I'd protect you!” Steve protested with melodramatic offence.

“Oh, my knight in shining armor,” Bucky declaimed, putting a hand to his forehead. Steve quickly moved to take his weight as Bucky let himself fall.

It left him lying in Steve's arms. Very, very close. Both men stared at each other, searching one another's eyes for the reassurance they both needed.

Steve put Bucky back on his feet. He let his hands linger on the other man's arms and then, in a moment of vulnerability, let his own body pitch forward. He layed his forehead against Bucky's collarbone and breathed him in.

Bucky's hands were shaking when he raised them to Steve's face and tilted it upwards. Steve drank in the sight of him, terrified and determined both at once. Like Bucky was half convinced he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but still wanted to see it through.

Bucky kissed him.

He still tasted vaguely of whiskey, a secondhand burn on Steve's lips, a warning and a reminder of his mistakes. Steve took in the taste. He promised himself to swallow every mouthful Bucky would allow, until he could be sure that his sins were his only, never to be carried by the most important man in his life.

It reassured Steve that he was in the right business when nobody seemed to notice anything amiss with him as he went to work that Monday. He did his job, kept on smiling and trying to project approachability despite his superstar status. He acted like Steve Rogers was supposed to act, and nobody seemed to realise it wasn't natural. Maybe he really _was_ talented after all.

Bucky didn't try as hard. He didn't have to. He blended into the shadows. To most people, he wasn't important. He wasn't noticed, wasn't _seen_. That, and Bucky also had the ability to project his own desire not to be seen. Most days he was a beacon, all smiles, always a joke at the ready. Sometimes though, something turned off inside him. In those moments, he disappeared. People stepped around him without realizing why. They raised a hand to say hello and stopped, catching themselves before they waved to the empty air.

People in the studio knew Bucky had those sorts of episodes by now. It was far from the first time it had happened. They weren't worried, because Bucky kept on doing his job. That was all that mattered to the people here. That was all that Bucky was to them. The musician. Steve's weird sidekick. Someone who would be expendable, if Steve didn't so efficiently argue his case every time his position was threatened.

Bucky didn't have to try to appear normal. He had nothing to lose here.

Somehow, Steve went through the day without breaking down. A minor miracle. Over the weekend, he and Bucky had been touching each other almost constantly. The distance between them now felt like an abyss. But they both survived their day, and Steve waved everyone goodbye before leaving with Bucky in tow. Except he then had to say goodbye to him as well.

Steve didn't want to be careful. Not if it left this uncomfortable silence between them. As they were walking, he quickly looked around, then pulled Bucky into one of the on-set changing rooms.

Bucky startled and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell, Steve?”

Steve grinned weakly. He shrugged. “Wanted to say goodbye to you too. Before I go and meet Peggy.”

“What does saying goodbye have to do with dragging me in here?”

“This,” Steve said, leaning down. He waited for Bucky to nod slightly before he closed the distance. The kiss itself was hard and messy, with Bucky pressed against the door and clinging to Steve.

“Couldn't say goodbye properly with other people around.”

Bucky sighed, letting his head fall onto Steve's shoulder. “You don't have to reassure me. You don't have to worry about me.” Before Steve could start to protest, Bucky squeezed his hand and continued. “I'll admit I'm not in the best of mental spaces right now, but I don't regret what I said. I want you to try things out with Peggy. I want you to get to have that.” He breathed in deeply and looked Steve straight in the eyes. “So you're going to get out of this changing room and meet her for your date and spend some time thinking about her and not me. Otherwise things are never going to work out between the two of you.”

Steve kissed him again, even as Bucky rolled his eyes. “I love you,” he said, just to be safe.

Bucky pushed him back so he could get out of the way of the door. “I know. Now go get yourself a girlfriend.”

Peggy was waiting for him in a café four blocks away from the studio. They didn't want to risk having their coworkers hovering above them for this. The studio owner was all about romance between acts – if he could find a way to capitalize on it. But playing that game meant relinquishing their right to any privacy. It was pretty ironic, in a sense. He couldn't be seen holding hands with Bucky because it would lose him his career, and he couldn't be seen doing the same with Peggy in case it became too beneficial for it. The world of cinema was a confusing place.

“Well,” Peggy said as he approached her table. “You look like you've had a day.”

Steve laughed. For once, it came easily, and Steve felt his muscles relax as he sat down and just... let go. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

Peggy smiled softly. It was a knowing kind of expression, but not a judgmental one.

“I guess... Telling you about me and Bucky has kind of put the focus back on some things that had managed to fade into the background. It's made me remember everything we have to lose. It's terrifying. And it makes this, between us, somewhat scary as well.”

“It's quite... oh well. I don't know how to phrase this. You love him very much. Now that I know that, it's quite obvious, really. But I hadn't noticed before. No one had noticed anything. I can't imagine how difficult that must be.”

A waitress approached, so Steve waited for their order to be taken before he replied. He was glad to have a moment to prepare his words.

“It is, and it's not. Bucky is the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's as simple as that. People don't understand it. They don't recognize it and they're scared of it. They're trying to make us feel scared too but... There's no other option, for us. Either we do this together, and it's hard, or we deny everything to ourselves, do it all apart, and it's even harder. I don't know if I would be able to be me if it weren't for him.”

“That's a difficult thing to stand up to.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Peggy elegantly shrugged. “You said you like me and wanted to try things with me, but I'm confused as to how I'm supposed to compete with what Bucky means to you.”

“You don't have to compete.” Steve shook his head. “That's the whole point of us doing it this way. You're both different and my relationship with each of you is different. I don't think it's going to work out if either of you starts seeing it as a rivalry. _I_ don't want this, if it's going to be a rivalry.”

Peggy nodded. “You realize it's going to be really hard for you to convince us, right?”

Steve paused then acquiesced. “I didn't get where I am today by taking the easy way out.”

That piece of bravado made Peggy smile. “Okay then. How did you two meet?”

Steve frowned. “Are you sure you want to spend this time talking about _Bucky_?”

“He's the person you're closest to. I figure that if I learn about him I'll learn a lot about you as well.”

“We're childhood friends. Our moms were neighbors. Buck's father died in service. Mine fucked off to who knows where soon after I was born. There was a lot of solidarity going on between our families, you know? We were basically like brothers. We decided to move after my ma died and... Well. Let's just say that there's a glamorous version that I tell to the press, and then there's the real story.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Backtrack a little bit there. You and your friend managed to make a car engine blow up when you were _ten_?”

Peggy grinned around a mouthful of cherry pie. “To be fair, Howard is the one who did most of the tinkering that eventually led to it blowing up. You could say I gained a lot of acting experience by lying through my teeth to try and keep the both of us out of trouble.”

Steve laughed openly at that. Considering the twinkle in Peggy's eyes, it was the effect she'd been aiming for.

Silence settled for a moment. After more than an hour spent trading childhood stories back and forth, the quiet was comfortable. It felt easy. It felt like Steve was actually himself, instead of his actor persona. It felt like he was being seen for the scrawny and headstrong child he'd once been, and not only for the respected adult he'd become.

“What do you see in me?” Steve asked. He immediately blushed.

Peggy just laughed.

“I'm serious,” Steve muttered. “I mean, I'm not the easiest guy to go after. With how we met and the... situation with me and Bucky... There's got to be something you see in me, right?”

“Well, I won't say you're not easy on the eyes.”

Steve blushed even more.

“To be honest, I'd always thought I wouldn't like you. The way fan magazines make you sound... It's barely human. There's such an aura around you, it used to make me feel small. You embodied all that I wanted to become, but while you got to enjoy the glory I was still stuck with a shitty part-time job as a dancer. I really wanted not to like you.”

She gave him a look as he opened his mouth to protest, and went right on.

“I was wrong. I know that now. You're very much a human being. And you care about others. It seems crazy now that I thought you wouldn't. I've seen you interact with the people in the studio. You don't hold yourself above them, not like the others do. You seem to have a big heart, Steve Rogers. I like that.”

Steve cursed his Irish complexion. His cheeks felt like they were on fire, and he knew Peggy must have noticed it. He finished his cup of coffee as a way to hide some of his embarrassment.

“I think I like _you_ ,” Steve let out, too late and too fast, not looking at her.

Peggy laughed again.

“How did it go?” Bucky asked, seated at his piano and not even turning back to look at Steve. He seemed more relaxed that he'd been at the studio, which was reassuring.

Steve toed off his shoes in the hallway.

“It went well. We just... we talked a lot. It was nice.”

Bucky did turn around at that, in order to raise an eyebrow at Steve. “Just talking?”

Steve flushed. He was starting to feel like the redness in his face would soon become a permanent feature.

“Yes, Buck. We just talked. This was basically our first date.”

“Oh right, I had forgotten that you were such a stickler for order and prudishness in your relationships.”

Steve walked to the piano and batted at his boyfriend's shoulder. “Come on. It was different with you. It's not like either one of us would have _ever_ asked the other on a date.”

Bucky shrugged. “I'm just saying.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Peering at the mess of scratched out notes that was the music sheet propped in front of the other man, he draped himself over Bucky's back, chin on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

The fact that Bucky didn't immediately respond was proof enough that Steve had been right to ask the question.

“Not great. But it's not your fault. Arm hurts a bit. And I'm tired.”

There was too much weight for these words to relate only to a physical state. Steve tightened his grip around his waist, laying a kiss on his neck.

“I know.”


	9. Chapter 8: Montage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is one day late! I realised yesterday that the chapter I had initially planned was basically just 2000 words of filler and not worth saving, and so had to scrap it, rewrite it as an intro to this chapter and then edit this........... this is what you get for drafting fics during NaNoWriMo.  
> I also had to get a little creative with the chapter title because I'm quickly running out of songs on the soundtrack, oops.

“You and Natalie are engaged. Congratulations.”

That was how Pierce had announced his new plan to sell their latest movie. Competition was fierce between various studios. If Monumental's _The Dueling Cavalier_ wanted to find an audience, it had to stand out in some other way.

Feeding the gossip mill was just the easiest way to do that.

Steve had protested, of course he had. There was a difference between pretending to date and officially announcing an engagement. It would make breaking up the lie that much more complicated.

But Pierce owned the rights to their public image, as Natasha had so kindly reminded him. He could do whatever he wanted, and it was all perfectly legal. It was easier to just play along, not to make waves and hope it would all blow over sooner than later.

Steve hated it.

At least as far as fake relationships went, Pierce could have picked a much worse partner for Steve than Natasha. You had to be thankful for those small blessings.

If it hadn't been for Natasha, if Steve had had to do this with anyone else, he would probably have given up. Contract be damned. The film they were trying to promote wasn't even that interesting.

 _The Dueling Cavalier,_ or another story of a dashing hero and a young lady needing to be rescued. During the first read-through, Natasha had made so many scathing comments about her character's inability to act like an adult woman that the director had put an end to the meeting before they'd reached the halfway point of the script.

The male lead was _slightly_ more interesting. He was a man of meager means trying to build a reputation for himself and refusing to be led astray from his noble intentions. Steve felt embarrassed that he related to the story. It was frustrating that Hollywood movies were so rife with these kinds of narrative considering one of the first things Steve had been told after his first big roles was to shut up about his working-class background and pretend he and Bucky had learned music in a conservatory.

This was a world of lies, ruled by appearances. Natasha didn't seem too bothered by it and flowed through it with ease and grace, despite the fact she had her own secrets to hide. Steve, on the other hand, often felt like his conscience would one day get the best of him.

And it wasn't that he didn't believe in what he was doing. He did. At least on the good days. He could sometimes see in the eyes of his fans what impact he'd had on them. He knew movies brought people pleasure, a reprieve from the toils of everyday life. He knew they could be an inspiration, that they at least had the _potential_ to save lives. Steve believed in movies with all of his heart, and that was why he kept acting in them.

The _industry_ , though. He had stopped believing in the industry a long time ago.

The ploy seemed to work, for a while. Journalists and fans had gone crazy at the official announcement of Steve and Natasha's engagement. It had been almost too easy for them to pretend to be humble and argue that they didn't want their romance to draw attention away from their work. And that was always the perfect opportunity for journalists to ask them to pitch their latest project.

It worked. _The Dueling Cavalier_ was being talked about, and everyone expected it to be another hit for the Rogers-Roman duo.

Everyone except for Steve himself. He had started losing hope in this new movie of theirs, appalled at all the nergy that went into promoting it instead of refining the characters or the plot.

Bucky, who was usually the one to gently mock the repetitive aspects of Steve's movie, had caught on to his dark mood and was now doing his best to convince him of the worthiness of his work. The arguments all felt a bit hollow coming from him, but Steve knew that he was trying. He also knew that Bucky really did believe in him. Part of his bitterness had always been due to his own lack of prospects in the industry.

Steve tried not to let his thoughts show as much in front of Peggy, but the woman was much too perceptive for her own good. Steve didn't want to poison her idea of the world of cinema, not when she had finally been handed a chance to actually make a career of it. But Peggy didn't seem to be as naïve as him, so maybe he didn't need to protect her.

Even she kept that on arguing that the movie could still turn out well. That even if it didn't, one mediocre film didn't mean that his work didn't have any meaning or that his career was a joke.

Honestly, Steve thought that she and Bucky were trying a little too hard to convince him. He had stuff on his mind, but that didn't mean he was about to give up. It was just one of those moments.

Steve wasn't happy, but he was fine. And he knew how to do his job.

But then _The Jazz Singer_ came out, and everything went to shit.

He had actually been in a good mood when he arrived at the studio on that day, having spent the night at Peggy's. Her flat was small, but it afforded them privacy and had the considerable advantage of not requiring them to ask Bucky to find somewhere to stay for the night.

He'd been in a good mood as he arrived, but that changed quickly as he realized that something was wrong. Tension was written in the body of every person he passed. People avoided his gaze. The air was heavy with bad news.

Fury, the director working on _The Dueling Cavalier,_ stood next to Natasha. They both turned as they noticed him approaching. Their faces were solemn. Bad news indeed.

“What happened?” Steve asked.

“ _The Jazz Singer_ happened,” Fury grumbled.

“ _The Jazz Singer_? That was... that talking picture project, right?”

Natasha nodded. “The premiere was yesterday.” She picked up a newspaper from a nearby table.

_A new cinematic revolution: the death of silent films!_

Steve looked up at her, panicked. Everyone had said that project would be a flop. It was just a gimmick. All of their promotional effort, all of their _lies_ had been supposed to prevent this. It had been meant to make sure the talking picture was ignored, so their silent one could still be a hit.

 _Most successful premiere of the decade_ , the article said. _Critical acclaim_.

“What are we gonna do?” Steve asked.

Fury shrugged. “I have no idea. Pierce said he was going to talk to us. But I'm not expecting a miracle.”

It turned out, however, that a miracle was exactly what Alexander Pierce expected of them.

“We're re-marketing the movie. We'll turn _The Duerling Cavalier_ into a talkie and show them that we can be as good as any other production company.”

“Sir, I'm sorry to say this,” Fury started. “But what the fuck? We've never shot a talkie. We don't know how to shoot one. We've already rehearsed the whole film as a silent one. We can't change that now!”

“We can, and we will!” Pierce interjected. “We have the technology. How hard can it be? Just put some hidden microphones on set and have the actors learn some lines. People in the theatre do it all the time. Now get out of my office and get to work.”

Steve, Natasha and Fury all stepped out in a daze.

“I knew I should never have started working here. This place is filled with crazy people,” Fury complained. “ _Have the actors learn some lines,_ he says. And who's going to have to find someone to _write_ those lines, uh?”

Steve knew it was probably better to let the man vent out his frustration, although he had to admit he had a good few of his own. Actually, if he was honest with himself, he very much wanted to close his eyes and start screaming. He wasn't a talking actor. His skillset had been developed for silent cinema, and that was the only thing he'd ever practiced. He didn't have a theatre background. He didn't _know_ how to learn lines.

“There's gonna be another problem,” Natasha cut in.

Understanding dawned on Steve right as she said it.

 _Natalie Roman_ obviously wasn't Natasha's real name. Everyone working for the studio had had to sign a non-disclosure agreement about it. Steve didn't know the whole story, but he could guess that there were things in Natasha's past that were better left undiscovered.

Like how her vocal chords had gotten damaged.

Steve figured it had something to do with the reason why she'd immigrated from Russia, which was another thing she didn't talk about.

But, the thing was, nobody had ever heard Natasha talk in public. Because her voice was _rough_ and too deep, and it cracked weirdly at times. Also, she had just a little hint of an accent left, which made some people in the studio queasy.

“Well,” Fury sighed. “We've got time before the script gets re-written. Guess you're gonna have to go through some voice-training lessons.”

Natasha's raised eyebrow managed to convey the extremely nuanced message of _Are you fucking kidding me, Fury? Do you think I haven't tried that before? Do you really believe this is gonna end any other way than in disaster?_

The weeks that followed were hectic. They needed to re-write the movie, set up the recording equipments _and_ train the actors in a brand new way of performing. That had meant a lot of new hires. Which had meant a lot of new people needed to be paid. Which had led to the budget for _The Dueling Cavalier_ quickly exceeding what had been planned before.

Which meant there was now even more pressure for the film to succeed.

Luckily, the whole mess meant that Steve didn't have the time to question what he was doing anymore. He didn't have time for existential crises or moping, because he had diction classes to attend and an hour's worth of script to memorise.

This meant he had needed to drastically cut back on nights out, which had in turn meant not getting many chances to see Peggy or spend time with Bucky in a non-work-related fashion. Both of them had been quite annoyed by the situation, although ultimately understanding of his predicament. This had lead to Peggy getting into the habit of coming over to their house, the three of them working on Steve's lines together. Some days Steve felt like crying just _thinking_ about how good they were to him.

He felt stressed, run ragged. But with them around, he was still able to smile. To laugh. To feel human. He didn't know if he deserved all of this, but wouldn't ever give it up without a fight. If there was one thing he was willing to be selfish about, those two people were it.

They started shooting the new version of the script and it was... hell. There was no other way to describe it. No one was used to the sound recording devices, and they had to recalibrate and reposition them all the time. Fury was snapping at everyone, clearly on the end of his ropes, making the atmosphere even more unbearable.

And then there was Natasha. She _had_ indeed taken more voice training lessons, but it wasn't enough. Her voice would still break at awkward moments, meaning they had to re-shoot the same scenes over and over again. It was taking a toll on her.

And it was just so _unfair_. Natasha was a professional. She was efficient, confident, and incredibly talented. But now some stupid executive decision she'd had no influence on was forcing her into a position where she felt out of her depth. She was hiding it as best as she could, but cracks were slowly appearing in her façade. That was a terrifying thought.

After a particularly trying day of shooting, Steve walked over to her dressing room. He knew he was acting like a mother hen. He knew Natasha was strong, probably stronger than him, and that she could handle whatever was thrown her way. He still worried, though. He wanted to help. There was nothing much he could do about the situation, but at least he could offer some comfort.

He knocked on her door, immediately starting to fidget as he waited.

“What is it?” Natasha asked, opening the door just enough to peek at who was outside. She seemed to relax a little when she saw it was just him, but still paused for a second before opening the door fully. “Do you need anything?”

Steve shook his head. “Just wanted to check on you. To talk to you.”

Natasha sighed. “Come in, I guess. I'm probably not supposed to leave my fiancé waiting at the door.”

Steve smiled a little as he stepped inside. With all of the craziness surrounding the movie re-write, he hadn't had a lot of time to think about his fake relationship with his fellow actress. They didn't have to pretend when they were around the set, and right now they were too busy for interviews or social events. But there was something nice about the way Natasha spoke about their little lie. It underlined their closeness, in a way.

Steve closed the door behind him. “Can your fiancé ask you a personal question?”

Natasha shrugged, settling down in an armchair, legs elegantly folded over one another. “I suppose so. No promises that I'll answer, though.”

Steve gave her a small smile. It was such a _Natasha_ answer that it was enough to reassure him a little. “Are you okay?”

She paused, one hand in the middle of carding through her hair. Steve just looked at her, not pushing but not stepping back either.

Natasha turned away and dropped both her hands in her lap.

“It is that obvious?”

“Not really. Not to everyone, at least. But I've come to know you a little bit over the years and... Well. I can't imagine that this is easy for you.”

Natasha sighed, letting her body melt into her chair. It made her look oddly vulnerable, something Steve wasn't used to. It made him feel a little warm that she trusted him like this.

“It's not easy. I'm not... I...” She stopped. Looked him in the eye. “I thought this was all behind me. I've become a star. There aren't a lot of better success stories out there. I thought it was enough. That I was done having to prove myself. But I guess the past is never entirely behind you.”

Steve could understand that. Or at least he thought he understood. He still remembered the bare apartment he had shared with his mom, so unlike the mansion he lived in now. He remembered the way people would look at him and his threadbare clothes.

“Have you ever felt like you don't belong anywhere?” Natasha asked him.

“Not in a very long time,” Steve replied without thinking. Not since he'd realised that Bucky could make him feel at home anywhere. Not since discovering what it felt like to have someone who wanted you like it was a need and who you needed in return.

There had been moments, before that. When his mother was driving herself ragged at work and he was sick and couldn't help. When all he could do was sit in bed and draw and then rip his drawings apart because they didn't mean anything.

Natasha nodded. The smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes.

“What's the trick?” she asked.

“Sorry?”

“The trick. To make a home of somewhere.”

“I don't know. I just got lucky. I just met the right people.”

“Mmh. I'm not very good at people. Guess that's part of my problem.”

“Maybe. Or maybe people just aren't good with you.”

Natasha smiled at that. A real smile that Steve couldn't help but return. Then she extended a hand towards him. Steve grasped it softly. “You're sweet. You would make a good fiancé.”

He blushed. “I'm not...”

Natasha shook her head. “Don't worry, I'm not trying to seduce you. I'm not good at people, remember?”

Steve squeezed her hand.

They stayed like that for a moment, in silence. Natasha didn't seem to want to add anything to the conversation and Steve respected her right to a moment of quiet. It felt comfortable. Steve thought that maybe he and Natasha were actually friends. Not just co-workers and fake fiancés, but proper friends. It was nice. He had Bucky and Peggy by his side, and they were both part of the same Hollywood world as him, at least to some extent. But it had always seemed like Natasha was alone. Maybe she didn't need to be.

Steve watched curiously as Natasha dropped his hand, stood up, and started rummaging through a drawer. She then came back with a bottle of vodka and two glasses.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“What? I'm feeling nostalgic for my home country. Besides, I would say we deserve it.”

Well. Steve couldn't very well argue with _that_. He let Natasha pour them a glass each, noticing that hers was a good deal fuller than the one she handed him. It didn't surprise him that she was the kind of person with a high tolerance for alcohol.

They cheered and drank. The vodka burned down Steve's throat. It wasn't the kind of drink he usually favored, but it wasn't bad.

Natasha watched him as he took careful sips. “Are _you_ okay?” she asked after a moment.

Steve drank some more vodka. “I'm... holding on. It's been difficult. This movie isn't really what I expected it to be, you know?”

“You mean it's really bad?”

Steve winced. “Yeah. I guess.”

“What did Pierce expect, asking people to re-write the whole script in a week? I mean, not that it was great even before their crazy idea of turning it into a talkie.”

“That and the way everyone's so stressed... I don't know, it's hard to believe in what we're doing when we're working under such conditions.”

Natasha nodded. “It would be nice if people at least pretended that we're trying to make a good film.”

“I mean, Fury's doing his best. But he's not the easiest person to work with when he gets worked up...”

“But you're holding on, you said?”

“Yeah. I've got... I've got people taking care of me. It would probably be much harder without them.”

Natasha's gaze weighed heavily on him, like she was looking for something. Steve could have made it easier on himself. He could have not used the plural. But he also hadn't said anything particularly incriminating. It all came down to the fact that he didn't want to lie to her. Especially not right now, not after they'd shared a moment that felt as personal as Natasha ever got.

She nodded, apparently satisfied with what she'd seen in him. “Don't let anyone take that away from you.”


	10. Chapter 9: Good Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a sex scene! If that's not your kind of thing, you can stop reading after the lines: "That dame of yours is a menace, Steve" "The best kind there is."
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

Steve wanted to hide behind his hands. On one side of him, Natasha was clenching the armrest of her seat so hard it was a wonder it hadn't broken yet. His own fingers hurt just thinking about it. On his other side, Bucky was leaning forward towards the screen, eyes wide with what Steve could only call morbid fascination.

The movie wasn't good.

Actually, scratch that. Steve was tired of trying to be decent towards things and people who didn't deserve it.

The movie was _terrible_.

The lines sounded stunted. He and Natasha had done their best, but their best wasn't enough when they were working with a subpar script and had no experience learning a text by heart.

Natasha's voice issues had been camouflaged decently enough, but it made the way she spoke appear unnatural. The plot of the movie was still as cliché as it had been on paper. The sound effects were all wrong. Too loud in places, barely audible in others. It was distracting and irritating. Steve had gone to see _The Jazz Singer_. It had been nothing like this. _That_ had been revolutionary. This was garbage. Ridiculous. Embarrassing.

When he didn't think that it could get any worse, when he thought it had all gone wrong enough for this to sign the end of his career, it all went even more pear-shaped.

The recording glitched. It went out of sync. On the screen, Natasha shook herself, uselessly trying to escape a threatening man's grip.

“No, let go!” She mouthed on the screen.

“You're mine,” a low and very much masculine voice said at the same time.

The camera's point of view switched to a close-up of the kidnapper's face just as a higher-pitched voice started screeching “No, let go!”

“Nobody can save you,” the low voice replied, superimposed with Natasha's moving lips.

“Let me go!” Natasha's voice responded, coming out of the man's mouth.

Steve wasn't sure if it was only his overactive imagination or a real thing, but he would swear he felt a wave of cold coming from his right sight. When he dared look in that direction, he only saw Natasha's pale face and a closed-off expression.

There wasn't anything he could do or say that would help her while the movie was still running.

 _Oh god._ The movie was still running.

He felt Bucky squeeze his hand in the dark, which he had to admit was a needed comfort in these circumstances. Peggy was in the room as well, he knew, somwhere amongst the people invited by the studio. He didn't know if he wanted her to see him or not.

He didn't know if he could face her after this. After feeling so ridiculed.

Steve actually closed his eyes for part of the movie. The technicians had managed to fix the synchronisation issue, but there wasn't anything they could do about the rest of the film. With his eyes closed, however, he could pretend that all of this didn't concern him. He could pretend that this was only a prank or a particularly bad radio play. His voice didn't even sound like his own, when projected like this out of a recording. That fact and Bucky's hand in his were the only things that made the preview of _The Dueling Cavalier_ a bearable event.

He should have known that watching the movie itself wouldn't be the hardest part.

Usually, the director and main actors would shake hands with the guests as they all exited the theatre. That night though, someone had had the brilliant idea of suggesting that they _not_ do that. Therefore, instead of accepting bland compliments, Fury, Natasha, Steve and Bucky all huddled up in a discreet corner and spied on other people's conversations.

They weren't nice conversations. At least not for the people listening in. They seemed to be going okay for the people involved in them. At least they were laughing a whole lot.

It wasn't supposed to be a funny movie.

“Why did the technicians have to fix the sound?” Fury grumbled. “If only they'd let the whole projector break down, it would have been better for everyone.”

“It wasn't _that_ bad...” Bucky tried to argue, though the twist of his mouth betrayed him. Natasha and Fury both glared at him.

“Well, that was possibly the worst film I've ever seen,” came a cheery voice as two women walked past them.

“I know!” a second voice responded. “It was so... transparent. And what was up with Natalie's voice? She sounded so weird!”

“Right?” The first woman started again. “It was _so_ distracting. And their equipment malfunctioning, can you believe it?”

“So unprofessional! During such an event, seriously...”

Steve sneaked a look in Natasha's direction. Her recognizable red hair was hidden under a long-brimmed hat, the rest of her by a trench-coat. Her fists were clenched by her side, although her facial expression was her usual carefully crafted mask of neutrality.

Steve looked at Bucky then. He nodded, and Steve took that as permission to slowly take hold of one of Natasha's hand. He squeezed her closed fist for a moment, then slowly unclenched her fingers one by one, until he could slot his own between them. It wouldn't make the movie preview any better than it'd been. But it would at least let her know that she wasn't alone, no matter what she thought.

They all stayed silent. Steve wasn't sure why exactly they were still listening. He just knew that he couldn't stop. Maybe they all felt they had to endure this as a kind of purgatory to purge the sins the movie represented.

It was possible that Steve Rogers, in a bad mood and left to his own devices, was a little bit of a drama queen.

Despite Bucky's insistence, no conclusive evidence had ever been brought forward to prove this fact.

When all the guests had finally left (Peggy had slipped away as well, but warned Steve and Bucky that she would be waiting outside), Pierce approached them. His poker face was a long way from Natasha's level and his anger could be spotted from across the room.

This fact did not reassure Steve in any way.

“Can somebody explain to me how such a disaster happened?” Pierce shouted.

Steve felt something flip inside him. He'd been feeling self-pitying before, he could admit that, but faced with Pierce's unreasonable aggressivity he was now filled with protectiveness. Before he had time to move and do something really stupid that would cost him his career and possibly land him in jail, however, Furty intervened.

“I warned you this would happen. I warned you there wasn't enough time. Don't you try and turn this back on me or on my actors when you're the only one to blame.”

Pierce sent a piercing glare Fury's way. The thing was, Fury was a good move director. He was invaluable to the studio. But Alexander Pierce had already proven he didn't care about the _artistic_ value of the studio. He didn't care about making good movies. If he found an excuse to fire Fury, it was all the better for him. It would mean having a chance to hire someone cheaper.

“Not enough time? If there isn't enough time, you _make time_. What did you do with all those additional paychecks I agreed to the past weeks? Because you could have used them to buy the time you so desperately needed!”

“That's not how it works,” Fury growled.

“That's not how _you_ think it works. But I don't care what you think. You have two weeks before the official premiere. Fix this movie or face the consequences.”

With that, he turned around and stormed off.

Steve had kept on holding onto Natasha's hand through the conversation and gave it another squeeze before letting go. She didn't acknowledge his support verbally, but trailed her fingers against his skin, just barely.

“Well. Nothing we can do tonight,” Fury sighed once he was done glaring daggers at Pierce's retreating form. “Don't beat yourselves up, people. We did what we could. Go home and rest a little. You're gonna need it tomorrow.”

They all nodded. Each went their separate ways, first making sure that no one nosy was waiting for them in the street.

Steve and Bucky walked quickly, joining Peggy where she was standing huddled in her coat next to a store window. She was carefully staying right in the middle of the circle of light shed by a lamp post. It couldn't hurt to be careful.

She didn't say anything to them, just grabbed Steve's hand within hers, the way Bucky wasn't allowed to in public. They didn't have to ask her to come back to their place, all of them already knew that was what was going to happen. She started walking by their side without question. Steve was very thankful for that.

As soon as she stepped into the living-room, Peggy bee-lined for the bar. “I'm making us drinks. This has been a shitty evening and I refuse to let the day end on such a gloomy note.”

“Why didn't I meet you sooner?” Bucky asked. “You would have been my favorite.”

Peggy winked at him as she pulled out a bottle of bourbon and three tumblers. “I'm everyone's favorite.”

Steve let himself fall on one of their couches. He closed his eyes.

He wished it could be enough, to just sit there and listen to the banter of two people he loved. To block out the rest of the world until all that was left was this space in which he felt safe and these people with whom he felt at home.

Someone pressed a glass into his hand and a kiss to his forehead. He could guess from the easy familiarity of the gesture that it was Bucky.

“You look like you need it.”

Before he could take a sip or even open his eyes, however, lips pushed against his own. His mouth opened slightly by reflex, and liquid poured into it. The alcohol burned his tongue in a delicious bite.

Steve opened his eyes and stared at Peggy's grinning face close to his. This was... new. Steve turned to Bucky. He was looking at them thoughtfully, but nothing in his expression indicated hurt. Steve felt something in his gut make it all the way to his throat before falling dramatically back where it belonged. He didn't move. Didn't dare to, as if any movement would shatter whatever was happening.

But nothing happened.

Peggy settled down against his side, Bucky in an armchair close by, and then she asked a question about the credit music for _The Dueling Cavalier_ and Bucky answered. It was all very casual.

Steve took a gulp of his bourbon. He wondered whether it was polite to ask people if he was currently hallucinating.

Peggy and Bucky kept on chatting and on topping up Steve's drink. After a while, they managed to distract him from his self-deprication and fear. It was enough for him join the conversation, even if the other two were talking about _books_ , of all things, and Steve had nothing knowledgeable to share on the subject.

They didn't seem to mind.

Soon enough, there was laughter. Genuine enjoyment and not just motions they were going through to make themselves feel better. Bucky put on records and forced Steve to dance. They started with some of their old routines from their vaudeville days, which made Peggy clap her hands in glee, despite the fact they were both rusty and Bucky couldn't handle all of the acrobatics anymore due to the weakness of his left arm.

Then they changed styles, picking a slower song and dancing close to one another. After that, Bucky pushed Steve away, telling him to stop hogging the good stuff, and he took Peggy's hand and swung her into a foxtrot.

After claiming to be too tired, he passed her on to Steve, and the two of them danced quietly for a song or two. They'd never done this together before. It felt intimate, all the more so considering they were in Steve's living-room, inhibitions lowered by alcohol and a sheer sense of comfort.

“Let's make it a musical.” Bucky's voice interrupted Steve's train of thought. He took a second to actually understand what the other man had said, but it wasn't enough to actually clarify anything in his mind.

“What?” Steve asked, abandoning his dance with regret.

“ _The Dueling Cavalier_. Let's make it a musical. It won't fix the whole script, but if you add in a dance number or two no one will pay attention to the script anyway. This way we can keep all the footage we've already shot, we just need to add in a few scenes.”

“Reframe the plot maybe?” Peggy suggested. “Have it be... a dream, or something. It would help making it come acress as less cliché.”

Steve drew Peggy closer by one of her hands, which he'd still been holding onto from the dance. He kissed her soundly, full of excitement. “You're brilliant.”

“She sure is!” Bucky interjected with a pout. “Good thing she thought all of this up by herself!”

Steve grinned as he approached the other man, putting his hands on either sides of his face and kissing him just as hard. Perhaps even a little bit dirtier.

Bucky seemed slightly dazed when he pulled back, which made Steve feel very proud indeed. “And you're a genius,” he whispered, still hovering just barely over Bucky's lips.

The other man swallowed, then gestured with his eyes in Peggy's direction. Steve leaned back. He hadn't thought... He hadn't really been thinking. He had just felt so excited, so at ease, that he hadn't remembered he wasn't supposed to be free to do this. Peggy might have been comfortable with the _idea_ of Steve and Bucky's relationship, but the abstraction of it was different from seeing them be physical with each other right in front of her face. Still, he didn't find any trace of disgust when he met her gaze. She was smiling at them tenderly.

“Oh, please. Don't stop on my account.” Her smiled turned into a smirk.

Bucky chuckled, relieved. His hands came up to rest on either side of Steve's hips, stopping him from moving further away. “That dame of yours is a menace, Steve.”

“The best kind there is,” Peggy added. There was a look in her eyes now, something curious, something _interested_. Something that Steve recognized and which made his stomach twist with anticipation. That look and the weight of Bucky's palms against his hips made his skin feel like it was on fire.

Steve wasn't sure what was happening. The only thing he knew was that he had entirely forgotten anything that had to do with _The Duerling Cavalier_ and its failed preview.

“What do you...?”

Peggy took a few steps forward, then put one hand against one of Steve's cheeks. Steve leaned into the touch automatically, but Peggy didn't guide him anywhere. Just left her fingers there, before slowly turning back towards Bucky. Steve felt his breath hitch with something he didn't know how to want. He followed Peggy's gaze, uncertain of what he was trying to find.

Bucky stared at Peggy, mouth slightly open. They seemed to be holding a full-length conversation with their eyes, one that Steve wasn't privy to.

Bucky nodded, the barest hint of movement, and then Peggy was pulling Steve towards her, just enough so that they could join their lips together. If Steve had thought that his kiss with Bucky was dirty, it was nothing compared to this. Peggy didn't play fair, and bit down on his lower lip almost right away. He gasped into her mouth and she used the opportunity to slip her tongue against his own.

And during all of that, Bucky's hands were still on Steve, thumbs rubbing little circles against his hips, making it impossible to forget that he was there.

Steve felt himself begin to shake. It felt so good, and it was too much. Much more than he deserved. Much more than he knew how to gracefully receive.

Peggy seemed to feel his distress and took pity on him, pulling away from the kiss after one last press of lips. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Steve didn't know how to respond to that. Was he _okay_? He was the best he'd ever felt, and also the most terrified. None of his emotions felt like they could be described by such a simple word as _okay_.

“I... yeah. I guess.”

“Do you want this?” Peggy asked. And that was a much easier question to answer.

It was the _only_ question he could answer, really, the only feeling he could understand right then. _Want,_ coursing through his veins like fire through a forest.

Steve nodded. Peggy was taking the lead here, so he was fairly sure he didn't need to ask her, but he turned towards Bucky. “Do you?”

The other man looked back at him, before letting his gaze linger on Peggy for a moment. “I think so.”

Steve kissed him. He kissed him like he could only ever kiss Bucky, with the knowledge that they were each other's, that the other's body was always the place they belonged to the most. Bucky was still sitting on the couch, and it was slightly awkward for Steve to have to bend down but he quite frankly didn't care.

Except when Peggy started to push against his side, whispering a quiet _Come on_ as she guided him towards a sitting position. It was a bit difficult to manoeuver when his mouth was still attached to Bucky's, but he wouldn't have had it any other way, practicality be damned. Peggy chuckled good-naturedly at him as they finally managed to settle. Steve was now sitting in the middle, Bucky kneeling on the couch and turned towards him and Peggy seated on his other side.

Steve wasn't sure whether he wanted the couch to be smaller or bigger. He felt like they were all too close and too far away from each other at the same time.

Peggy pressed herself against his backside as he resumed kissing Bucky. He could feel the soft weights of her breasts, so different from the smooth plane of Bucky's chest against his fingers as he ran a hand over his white shirt.

Peggy kissed his throat, then moved his shirt collar out of the way to nip at the skin of his shoulder.

Steve was torn between two contradictory feelings. He wanted to lean forward into Bucky's embrace, but also to lean back and offer Peggy more space to work with.

Bucky ended up making the choice for him by pulling away from the kiss. Steve tried to hold his gaze as he leant into Peggy's touch, but felt his eyes close of their own accord as she started sucking lightly on his skin. He didn't worry too much about her leaving a mark. It was always nice to give the make-up artists on call at the studio something to gossip about.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, his low voice sending sparks right to Steve's crotch. “This is actually hot.”

“Yeah?” Peggy asked. Steve could feel her grin against his skin and heard a whimper leave his throat in answer.

“Yeah. Never been such a fan of the ladies – no offence, Peggy. But this... I think I like this.”

“I'll take it as a compliment then.”

Steve looked at Bucky again. He didn't seem to be lying if the hunger in his gaze was any indication. It sent a shiver down Steve's spine. He wasn't sure he understood what was in it for Bucky and Peggy, considering Steve was very much the center of attention right then, but Steve certainly wouldn't doubt his enjoyment of the situation if Bucky kept on looking like that.

“Buck...”

“Yeah, I'm here Steve,” the other man replied as he leaned forward to kiss him. Pulling away once more, he smirked mischieviously. “You're gonna share with our guest?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Steve turned around towards Peggy, who was waiting for him with a smile.

She leaned into him easily, hands settling on his shoulders. She laid his own hands on hips, and he immediately held on, bunching up the fabric of her dress.

Dresses were pretty, Steve thought, but they had the distinct disadvantage that they made access to the skin underneath more difficult when you were kissing someone. Shirts, on the other hand, could easily be untucked and pushed away. As Bucky quickly demonstrated before skimming his fingers across Steve's ribs in an almost ticklish touch.

Steve decided that he was going to stop thinking about exactly what was going on and just enjoy whatever happened. His partners were clearly both willing, considering their enthusiastic involvement, and he was feeling too good to do much thinking anyway.

Bucky had apparently decided that pushing up his shirt wasn't good enough, and had began unbuttoning the garment like its presence was a personal offense. Steve could understand the feeling and almost didn't mind having to pull away from Peggy to take the piece of clothing off. The not-minding might have been a side-effect of Peggy's hand immediately going to his chest as soon as it was revealed.

It wasn't a secret that Peggy had a thing for Steve's muscles, and there was an utter lack of complaining about it on Steve's part. A bit of flattery felt nice now and then.

“You too,” he asked, tugging on one of the short sleeves of Peggy's dress so she would understand what he meant.

She chuckled. “Mind helping me out?” She stood and turned around, presenting her back to him and carefully holding her hair out of the way so he could open the zipper of her dress.

Steve didn't know how to admit that he absolutely loved doing that. There was something incredibly intimate about the act of helping someone undress. It was even better than the nakedness it tried to achieve. Steve guessed it had to do with the idea not just of showing yourself but of letting your façades be taken apart by someone else.

He couldn't explain it, but the slow drag of the zipper between his fingers sent vibrations flying all across him. Pushing the fabric down the length of Peggy's arms to let it fall at her feet felt like being kissed by the sun.

Peggy let her hair fall back across her upper back, and Steve was surprised when Bucky reached out to carefully card a few of his fingers through the curls.

He looked embarrassed at his movement when Peggy and Steve turned towards him. “It looks soft,” was his only explanation.

“Yours is too,” Steve started with a grin. “At least when you don't put half a tub of product in it.”

Bucky shoved him half-heartedly. “Excuse the poor souls who have to actually put effort into looking good.”

“Well, I would say you don't clean up too badly,” Peggy commented.

It made Bucky blush, which was a rare enough sight that Steve felt tempted to pompously declare his love for Peggy right there and then. It was also slightly funny considering Bucky had managed to gather a reputation as a smooth womanizer despite the fact he'd never had sex with a woman in his life. It turned out that women in a sexual situation made him _nervous_.

“You'd probably look even better if you got out of your clothes,” Steve suggested.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “And you'd look better if you actually shut up from time to time.”

The quip had no venom in it, as familiar as the couch they were standing next to. It made Peggy chuckle. “I can help with that if you want,” she said before leaning forward to kiss Steve once more. It felt like they'd already spent hours kissing, but Steve couldn't get enough. In that particular moment, though, he had another priority.

He pulled away, running a hand down Peggy's side in apology. “Wait. I wanna help..;”

He turned back towards Bucky and worked on untying his tie. Those were definitely his favorite piece in any menswear attire. Pulling it off required one to face the other, breathing the same air, the drag of silk on cotton fabric barely loud enough to fill the silence.

He took his time with it, and Bucky bore the tension quietly, used to Steve's little game. Once the tie was off, though, Steve lost no time in getting rid of Bucky's waistcoat before starting to unbutton his shirt.

At the same time, Bucky began working on Steve's belt, apparently losing his patience too. Once he had pulled it free, Steve felt Peggy's hand settle at his waistband.

This was the best thing about this siutation. There was no respite from the different sensations. There was always someone picking up where the other had left off and Steve felt like he was falling apart in the best way possible. In the safest way, because he knew his pieces would be picked up and put together again.

“Come on, down,” Peggy ordered, and Steve obliged in helping her pull his own slacks down. Luckily, they had all already lost their shoes at some point in the evening, so it was easy work. He felt self-conscious about taking off his underwear since Peggy was still wearing hers, but the embarrassment quickly disappeared when Bucky undressed himself completely. Now it would be weird if Steve _didn't_.

“Take you socks off,” Peggy and Bucky said at the same time while Steve stepped out of his underwear. He groaned.

“Seriously?”

“You heard the lady, Rogers.”

“I don't understand what your obsession is with taking socks off. What are they doing to you? Why do you so desperately want my feet to be cold?”

“Oh, nobody here is about to get cold feet, don't worry,” Peggy said with a grin. Bucky snorted at the pun.

“Fine,” Steve said, taking off the offending garments and dropping them on his pile of clothing with an air of finality. He curled his toes. At least the living-room had a nice rug and he didn't have to stand on cold tile. “By the way, I would just like to point out that me and Bucky actually do have a bedroom. It even has a bed. You know, just a thought.”

“Why, this not classy enough for you?” Bucky asked, sitting back down on the couch. He settled sideways, one leg on the floor and one half extended on the cushions.

With a smirk, Peggy mirrored his position on the other side.

Steve wasn't sure that _classy_ was the correct word for the picture they painted. He wasn't sure any word was enough to describe how ravenous they both made him feel.

Peggy was still wearing her lingerie, a black bra with discreet flower designs in lace and matching panties. Her relative nakedness made her makeup stand out despite the fact that it was a little smudged from wearing it all night. Bucky, on the other hand, was naked skin from head to toe, the dark hair on his legs contrasting with Peggy's shaved ones where they touched. His erection was also on full display, which was making Steve's mouth water a little.

He felt weird, standing and looking at them like this, but he also felt weird _being looked at._ He suddenly realised that he himself was fully naked under their gaze and the flattering light of the living-room lamp. It sent a new shiver down his spine.

“Come on, don't just stand there. Join us.”

Peggy beckoned him and Steve followed. Except he didn't sit on the couch and instead knelt down in front of it. Peggy breathed in sharply, which made something light up in Steve's chest.

“Can I be selfish?” Peggy asked, directing the question towards Bucky and not him. Steve didn't mind, especially since he had a pretty good idea of what Peggy was _really_ asking.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “We've got plenty of time. We can each have our turn.”

The way they talked about him like this should not have sent a thrill of arousal to Steve's now hard cock. He was discovering a lot of things that evening. High among them was the fact that he was probably one of the luckiest men alive.

“Oh, thank god.” Peggy shimmied out of her panties without trying for elegance. She then opened her legs on either side of where Steve was kneeling. “Please?” Her voice was strained in the best way.

But, to be honest, Steve hadn't even needed for her to ask. He leaned in, putting a hand on one of Peggy's thighs and softly brushing a fnger along the length of her labia. He lightened his touch even further as he reached her clit, keeping it but a teasing suggestion. As he moved back down, he could feel the wetness already accumulating between her folds. The physical proof of her arousal echoed his own, making him feel aching to be touched. But this moment, right then, wasn't about him. He'd already had plenty of moments about him during this evening, he could manage.

He added a little bit of pressure on Peggy's clit, circling it once or twice until Peggy started letting out the tension accumulated in her body. Only then did he move closer.

He licked a long stripe against her, feeling her muscles reflexively twitch under him.

“Shit, yes. You're such a sweetheart,” Peggy whispered as she ran a hand through his short hair.

Steve felt his cheeks redden at the praise. Luckily, the task at hand was a perfect way for him to hide his face. What a way to cheat the system.

He held her folds open with the hand that wasn't still gripping her thigh and dipped his tongue inside, his senses immediately assaulted by the smell and taste of her. It was overwhelming enough, but then another hand slipped through his hair, scratching at his scalp just the way he liked.

Steve looked up, keeping up the gentle pressure of his tongue against Peggy. Bucky had moved closer so that he could reach Steve, crowding in close against Peggy who now had one arm thrown over the back of the couch.

And that was... something. To see the two of them inside each other's personal space, trusting each other easily. Despite the fact they hadn't known each other for a long time, despite the fact that they could so easily have been jealous of one another. Maybe it was the stress and the lack of sleep, but Steve was feeling _a lot_ of emotions right then.

“Isn't he beautiful?” Bucky asked.

Steve dropped his gaze again, concentrating on making Peggy feel good.

From the fact that the next thing that came ouf of Peggy's mouth wasn't an answer but a moan, Steve figured he was doing a pretty good job.

“That was a nice sound,” Bucky said, sounding a little surprised. Steve agreed. He agreed wholeheartedly and was already doing his best to draw it out again. He was also doing his best not to let out any filthy moans of his own and desperately start jerking off.

“Was it really?” Peggy asked, faking composure although she was a little out of breath. She looked up at Bucky.

The two of them were so close they looked on the verge of kissing. However, that was a fantasy that Steve was going to keep locked away deep inside himself.

Bucky hummed his agreement to Peggy's question, nails still scratching against Steve's scalp.

Steve couldn't suppress his moans any longer and he leaned into his partner's touch. That had the added bonus of allowing him to catch his breath for a short moment. Looking up at Peggy, he could see how aroused she was, how her usually perfect façade was slipping to reveal a core at once sharper and more mellow.

Peggy leaned in to trace her thumb across his lips, which he could guess had already started to swell and redden. He playfully licked at the digit.

“Oh, you haven't had enough, have you?”

Steve shook his head. “Unless you want something else.”

“No, you were doing great.”

Steve took that comment as his cue to get back to work. A few minutes later, he had the satisfaction of feeling Peggy's hand clench in his hair as she shook apart under his tongue. A wave of calm washed over him. Peggy brought out that feeling a lot, contrary to Bucky who was an expert at riling Steve up.

“Come here,” Peggy asked, still a little breathless and pulling at his shoulder. Steve obligingly stood up then bent down to give her a kiss.

He felt mellow in the best sort of way. He was aroused, sure, but not in any kind of hurry to reach his own climax. He would rather have this floaty feeling last forever.

“Come on, time to share now,” Bucky said right next to them.

As soon as Peggy had pulled away, Steve felt a hand on his cheek guide him towards the other man. He went gladly, like a parched man being guided to freshwater. He went and drank, and in no time he had his hand around Bucky's cock and Bucky's was on his own and Peggy was tracing soothing circles on his back.

He didn't need to be soothed. He needed release. He needed to be drowned and born again, because this felt like the most wonderful kind of death.

He came before Bucky, shuddering from overstimulation but refusing to lose control of his rhythm until the other man joined him with a breathless groan.

Bucky collapsed forward after his orgasm and Steve caught him in his arms, letting himself lean against Peggy in the process. They wouldn't be able to stay that way for long, because Steve's knees were about to give out and he would probably end up crushing Peggy half to death. For a few seconds, however, Steve let himself bask in the warmth of the two human beings on either side of him. When he turned his head, Peggy was there to meet his gaze. “Hey you,” she said with a smile.

“Hey. I think I need to mark my calendar. Make March 22nd the happiest day of my life.

“March 23rd, actually,” she replied.

“Yeah,” Buck mumbled against Steve's chest. “It must be way past midnight at this point.”

“Well. Good morning to you both, then.”


	11. Chapter 10: Would You?

For once, Steve's luck actually held out, at least for one day after his night with Peggy and Bucky. He pitched their idea to turn _The Dueling Cavalier_ into a musical movie to Fury. The director didn't immediately respond with enthusiasm – he nearly never did – but when Bucky convinced him that he could write and record a full soundtrack in under a week, he begrudgingly accepted that the suggestion had potential.

“What about Natasha's voice though? Having her sing isn't gonna cover that up.”

That's when Steve introduced him to Peggy. Her professionality and charisma had him wrapped around her finger in no time. Steve was actually a little dumbstruck by how quickly she got him to give her the job of singing in Natasha's place. After all, it was perfectly possible to sync someone else's voice with the pictures of Natasha.

They let Fury do the work when it came to convincing the studio owner to let them have their way, as everyone involved seemed to think it would be better to let him think this was all Fury's idea.

Once they got the all-clear for the project... Things were a bit of a whirlwind.

Bucky basically became rooted to the seat of his piano, sometimes even taking meals there while he went over the music sheets for his latest compositions. The only exceptions were the times he was playing the violin.

Steve was busy practicing dance routines with Natasha on the one hand and re-recording all the dialogue and songs with Peggy on the other. Peggy was kept busy by the recording, unsurprising considering she had to act out a character that was entirely new to her and somehow make her acting match that of Natash's gestures. Every moment they could spend together, in pairs or the three of them, felt like stolen time. But they couldn't complain. This was the life they had signed up for. This was show-business.

It was all worth it, in a way, when they got to see a rough cut of the new movie before it would be released for premiere. It was worth it when they realised that not only had they made the movie better, they had actually made it _good_. They had turned it into a piece of art that could actually mean something to someone. It still wasn't fine art, no Shakespeare and no Ibsen, but enough to let people escape their own life for a moment. It was enough to bring them pleasure. To connect with them, even if it was on a superficial level.

It was enough to give Peggy the career she wanted, if they played their cards right. That had been one of the conditions they'd imposed when pitching the project to Fury. Peggy needed to be credited for her role. Natasha would still be the star of the picture of course. Her name was on all the posters and publicity material. Her face was the one that people would recognize, the one who would draw in the crowds. But Peggy's name would be there, on the screen somewhere. It would be there, and people would find it. It would be there, and she would be able to use it as proof of her talent.

At least that had been the plan.

The day of a premiere was always effervescent. Studio executives tried their best to make up for all the harsh treatment suffered during shooting and would send their stars a case of champagne before the movie screening and a second one after. Steve, Bucky and Peggy had decided that, this time, they would enjoy the opportunity to its fullest, and they were lounging around in Steve and Bucky's living-room with a glass each while they waited for their cars to arrive. Steve would be taking a different one than Bucky and Peggy, because they were still keeping up the pretense that he and Natasha were engaged. Steve thought it was silly but, more than that, he was annoyed that it would infringe on his time with his actual partners on such an important night.

Because this didn't feel like any premiere. This wasn't just a random picture he was playing in. It was a project they had built together, the three of them. It carried as much of Bucky and Peggy's souls as it did his, and in that sense was more important than anything he'd ever been a part of. Because Bucky and Peggy were the most important thing he'd ever been a part of.

At least both of them kissed him thoroughly before leaving the house. They were giggling as they entered their own car, Bucky pretending that Peggy was his plus one for the sake of reporters who didn't know the role she'd played in the production of the movie. It was a good cover, since Bucky was a known personality in the cinema world but not famous enough to attract real attention. He was a man of the shadows when it came to this kind of events.

When Steve entered the car where Natasha was already waiting, she gave him a knowing smirk. “Were you having fun without me?” she asked, leaning into his personal space so she could put his hair back into place.

As usual, Steve wondered how much she actually knew.

“Not too much,” Steve said, keeping up a joking front.

Natasha didn't say anything to that, relaxing into her seat although she didn't lose her smirk. The car started up smoothly, much more so than Bucky's Old Betsy ever did despite all the time he spent tinkering with it. Maybe _because_ of the time he spent tinkering with it.

After a moment, Natasha turned towards him. “Thank you.” For once, her features were soft. Vulnerable. Steve felt uneasy. “For what you did for this movie. It was a good thing. I... am not used to needing help. I am not used to asking for it. I'm glad I didn't have to.”

Steve had no idea how to respond to this.

“You don't have to say anything, Natasha continued, saving him from himself. “I just wanted you to know that I truly am grateful.”

Steve nodded, and they spent the rest of the ride in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but a stark difference from the animation in his house when he'd been drinking with Peggy and Bucky.

As they finally stopped in front of the theater where the movie was showing, Natasha adjusted her coat and hair. “Ready to put on a show?”

They could hear the crowd of fans even from within the car.

Steve didn't answer Natasha's question. Instead, he put on his most charming smile and opened the door. Assaulted by the flash of cameras, he took a few seconds to smile and wave, before walking around the car and opening Natasha's door as well. She stepped out gracefully, a smile on her lips, and took his arm as they made their way towards the red carpet. It was easy to let Natasha lean into him, to share a look with her that was both tender and conspirational. They had been playing lovers in so many ways for so long that the role was a haven of familiarity.

The pre-premiere routine went by in a blur. Questions were asked by journalists, and Steve answered them, as he always did. Natasha never spoke in public. Most people seemed to assume it was a publicity stunt, meant to create more mystery around her. It was an assumption the studio was more than happy to keep feeding.

Steve didn't really remember what he said. The questions asked on the red carpet were always the same anyway, always general, since no one had seen the movie yet. It wasn't the kind of interview he had any interest in doing. Still, he must not have done his job too badly, since none of his feet had been crushed by Natasha's heels (her favored technique for forcing him to pay attention.)

Both uninjured, they finally went through enough photographs, autographs and formal waving and made their way inside. That didn't mark the end of the pretense, though, since they still had to keep the front up for all the public personalities that had been invited to the event. There were a lot of studio executives and other actors, but also a big bunch of people who had been invited thanks to the size of their wallets.

That was another thing about those movie premieres that was always painful to Steve. The real fans, those who were waiting with tears in their eyes, never came inside. _They_ weren't invited. They waited outside, in the cold, for a chance to see their favorite actors for a few seconds. Sometimes, they stayed there for the duration of the whole movie, hoping to catch one last look as people exited the building. In the meantime, rich people enjoyed drinks before they spent two hours watching a picture they didn't care about, just so they could brag to their friends that they'd been there.

Natasha pinched his arm where she was still holding on to it, bringing him back to the present. He slipped his smile back into place and made the rounds with her, shaking hands with as many people in the room as possible. At least he could see that Bucky and Peggy were already there, talking with another young actress from their studio. They gave him a wave from across the room. It was enough to make Steve relax a little. Natasha leaned into him. “They're cute, I'll give you that. I might even be jealous if I was your true fiancée.”

Steve froze. She hadn't spoken loud enough for anybody to hear her. Actually, she was already laughing at someone else's joke, as if nothing had happened. But she _knew_.

He followed her lead in joining a new conversation, but his motions had become just that little bit stiffer. She came close again, gripping his arm in what any outside observer would call an affectionate gesture. “Come on. I was joking. Relax.”

And the thing was, Natasha seemed to care. She'd always seemed to care. But she was also a professional actress, someone who lied for a living. Steve didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to think. He had just wanted to celebrate this night, not to cast doubt on the intentions of someone he considered his friend.

He drank two flutes of champagne in the time it took to greet everyone. He needed it to settle his nerves. He caught Bucky shooting him a concerned look, but that just made it worse. If Steve could see him doing that while standing next to Peggy, if Natasha could see it, other people might as well. People who _definitely_ didn't have good intentions. It wasn't just Steve's career on the line anymore, it wasn't just Bucky's either. If Steve didn't keep his feelings in check, Peggy might get embroiled in it all and she would pay for it. She had already paid enough in Steve's name before this.

Steve and Natasha didn't actually sit in the audience for the premiere, because they were supposed to give a speech at the end of it. Well, Steve was. They _were_ allowed to stay inside the projection booth, on the condition they made their way backstage before the end of the credits.

Steve was pretty happy with this situation, since the only people in the room besides him and Natasha were the technician, Pierce, Fury, Bucky and Peggy. The latter two weren't officially supposed to be there, but at this point everyone had figured out they tended to tag along wherever Steve went. Which Steve was now realising might have been a terrible idea.

He was glad he didn't have to stay too close to Natasha, even if he couldn't link his fingers through either Peggy's or Buccky's.

Natasha tried, in her way, to ease the pain. She must have noticed how uneasy what she had said had made him and was now keeping her distance as much as she could. Despite everything, Steve was grateful to her for that small gesture.

Watching the movies he'd played in was always weird. This one especially so, since it was the first time he could hear himself speak. He kept feeling like there was something wrong with his voice or that his way of talking was too bombastic. There was nothing to be done about it now, but it was always painful to realize all the things he could have done better.

At least, from what little he could see of them, the audience seemed to like it. A lot more than they had the first version. Not that that was hard.

The point was that people seemed to be enjoying themselves.

And then the credits started rolling. In the dark, feeling the distance between them like an ache, Steve looked for Peggy's name. He was waiting for the swell of pride in his chest he was sure would come.

Except it never did appear. Not the pride and not Peggy's name.

He heard a choked-off sound coming from where she was sitting.

“What's happening?” Steve asked, rage already taking over his voice.

“I don't know what you mean,” Pierce said. There was a smugness in his voice that indicated the contrary. Steve was suddenly glad he wasn't holding anyone's hand. He might have crushed bones.

“You know _exactly_ what I mean. Where is Peggy's credit? She was an integral part of this picture. She did half the work for the Marie character. She deserves to be recognized for it.”

“She deserves exactly what I decide to give to her, no more no less,” Pierce replied with a shrug.

“You can't do this!” Steve exclaimed loudly. “You promised-”

“I didn't promise anything,” Pierce interrupted. “I can't account for what Nick told you, but I assure you that Margaret's contract allows me full control of her public image, which includes her name. This is all perfectly in order, Mr Rogers. I'm appalled you would even think that I'd do anything untowards to one of my employees.”

“Because you actually think that something being legal means it's fair?”

Pierce raised an eyebrow. “Don't embarrass yourself, Rogers. What I think is fair has nothing to do with this. We're talking about business here, not feelings.”

Steve shook his head. He couldn't understand this. He also didn't know what to say. And then he realised he was the only one speaking.

“Why is no one else saying anything?” He asked, looking around him at the others.

Peggy's face was blank, scarily resigned.

Bucky had a bitter twist to his mouth, clearly unhappy with how things were playing out, but Steve knew that he had no real weight in this conflict. His true value had never been recognised, and it wasn't about to be now. This was true even though his music had saved _The Dueling Cavalier_. The raise he'd been offered for his part in the movie had barely covered minimum wage for the time he'd spent composing the soundtrack.

So Steve turned to Fury and Natasha. “Did you know?”

Natasha's face showed nothing, and Steve felt hurt lodge inside his chest. This was perfect for her. This way she could keep her position as a superstar without risk of ever being replaced in the public eye by the shining new star that Peggy was destined to be.

He didn't want to think this way. Part of him still wanted to trust Natasha, despite the fact that he had always felt that she could be dangerous. Not trusting her felt like betrayal of the slowly blooming friendship between them. But that was a silly thing to think. They'd only ever been colleagues. And everybody knew that in show-business colleague was only a euphemism for rival.

“Mr. Pierce is right. This is all legal. I checked,” Fury said.

Steve turned his anger onto him. It was easier than having to consider Natasha. Steve didn't have any personal attachment to Fury.

“You promised us. I trusted you and you still-”

“I did what I could,” Fury replied cuttingly. “I did what was possible. What needed to be done. The future of this picture was more important than your personal sense of ethics, Rogers.”

“You mean that the money you can make off of Natasha's name and Peggy's work is worth more than justice.”

Fury rolled his eyes. “Words like _justice_ are easy to throw around, but life is a little less black and white than those flicks you star in.”

Steve was about to protest again. Peggy was quicker than him.

“What about the next pictures?” she asked.

Steve paused. He had been so focused on the present injustice he hadn't even stopped to consider the threat that it could represent for Peggy's future.

“What about the next time Natasha plays in a talkie? What are you gonna do then?”

Pierce smiled wolfishly. The expression made Steve's stomach twist. How had he never noticed how deep the meanness of this man ran?

“Well, you signed a seven-year contract. From my perspective, there's no reason to change a winning team.”

“I see.”

Steve wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something.

Pierce looked at his watch. “Look at that. Come on now, Rogers, it's time to give your big speech.”

If he focused, Steve could make out applause coming from outside the projection booth. The credits had finished rolling. They were already late.

Steve walked out with heavy feet. This was his job. A lie.

Natasha followed behind him, still silent. She put a hand on his shoulder, as if to stop him or get his attention, but Steve shrugged her off without looking.

Steve entered the backstage area alone, although he could hear the whole group following behind him. He stood still beside the entrance to the stage and took a few deep breaths. Then he plastered a smile onto his face, feeling the grimace pull at his muscles in a way that was physically painful. He turned towards Natasha.

Without a word, he extended his hand to her.

Natasha took it, put on a smile as well, and they both stepped onto the stage and started waving at the assembled audience.

People errupted into applause again. Steve wanted to shout. He wanted to cry. He wanted to let the crowd know how much they'd been lied to. He wanted to let them know how little others cared about them.  
The thing was... These people probably already knew all of that. A lot of them were from the film industry themselves. A lot of them were rich enough that the only explanation for their success was that they didn't care about anyone either.

Very suddenly, Steve realized how alone he was in this environment, he and his idealism. Bucky had warned him of this, had spent years doing just that, but Steve had still wanted to _believe_. He had hoped. He had trusted humanity enough to give it his heart, the best way he knew how.

Showered by applause from prople he hated, Steve realised that this had been the biggest lie of all. The lie he had kept on telling himself.

He waved. Natasha waved. They both smiled. The world kept on turning. Steve felt sick.

He approached the microphone in the center of the stage and started speaking. He had learned the speech by heart. It wasn't hard, they were always the same anyway. Something about how grateful they all were for the people here tonight. How he hoped they had enjoyed the picture. How it was an honor to have been involved in such a project. How he was humbled by their positive reaction to his work.

Bullshit. All of it. The entire industry was based on bullshit. Lies that kept breeding more lies.

In a way, Steve now felt relieved that his real fans were waiting outside. At least he didn't have to face them right now. Because _they_ still believed. They believed in _him_.

How would he ever look them in the eye again after this? How would he ever look _himself_ in the eye?

How would he ever face Peggy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna know what I'm the most proud of about this chapter?
> 
> The fact that I remember the name I had given to Bucky's car.


	12. Chapter 11: Singin' In The Rain

On stage after the premiere of _The Dancing Cavalier,_ Steve finished his speech without letting on that he was having an existential crisis. Maybe he could finally feel secure in the knowledge of his own acting talent.

He waved at the audience once more, and he and Natasha made their way backstage. Steve felt his smile crumble as soon as he was out of sight of the crowds. Natasha was still holding onto his arm, but he refused to face her.

Backstage, everyone was silent. Pierce was standing smugly, enjoying the audience's applause as if they were meant for him only. All the others were exchanging uneasy glances.

Then people in the audience started shouting. Shouting for Natalie Roman. Shouting for her to _speak_.

Because _The Dancing Cavalier_ had finally brought down her mask of the mysterious, silent lady. The crowd had had a taste of what she sounded like – or so they thought – and now they wanted more.

Pierce looked frozen for a second. This had apparently not been part of his plan. Steve wasn't too proud to admit that the panic in the studio owner's eyes gave him great satisfaction.

“Go back out there,” Pierce growled, pointing at Steve. “Tell them she doesn't feel comfortable giving speeches. Or make something up, I don't care!”

“Why would I-” Steve began to protest.

“I own your contract too,” Pierce interrupted him. “So you'll do as I say or you won't have a career left.” He turned towards Bucky. “And that holds for him too. It's not like I don't have pianists queuing up in front of my door, ones that don't have ladies screaming out whenever they roll up their sleeves.”

Bucky's face shut down at that remark, but Steve could still make out the anger gathered in his eyes. It was the same one he was feeling, except colder. That was always how Bucky's darker emotions ran, cold and sharp. Dangerous. Pierce didn't know how lucky he was that they were in public right then, that there were witnesses around.

But he was still right in saying that there was nothing Steve could do. Not right then. The only thing in his power was to play the nice dog for a while and hope there would be opportunities to bite later.

He went back on stage, still with a smile on his face, although this one was meant to appear apologetic. “Thank you so much for your enthusiasm,” he started. “It means a lot that you would support us and this picture like this. Natalie would love to come and tell you so herself, I promise you. It's just that... well. She's a bit shy when it comes to public speaking. I know, I know! An actress, a star like her? Well. We all have our contradictions! You all know how much Natalie shines in front of the camera, she doesn't have to prove that. But yes, even she has her weaknesses, and one of them is speeches. I'm sure you can all understand this. Still, in her name, I would like to once again thank you for being here. This movie would not exist if you weren't there to watch it.”

He left the stage again, but could hear that his speech hadn't been enough to satisfy the audience. Of course not. Steve wouldn't go as far as to defend their intelligence, considering the resentment he harbored for most of the people into this particular room. Still. All sharks could smell blood.

“Let her sing something then!” someone shouted loudly. The request was taken up by the rest of the crowd.

Backstage, Steve raised an eyebrow as he waited to see what Pierce's next awful idea would be.

It was Natasha who stepped forward. Steve felt something twist in his stomach at the betrayal.

“Do we have another microphone?” she asked. Fury nodded, and immediately went to look for a technician who could set it up.

“What are you planning, Roman?” Pierce growled.

“Saving your dumb plan. They want me to sing, so I'll sing.

“But-”

“Except that we'll cut the sound from my microphone and broadcast the signal from the second one. The one in which _Peggy_ will be singing. You can just hide her behind the stage curtain.”

Everyone turned to look at Peggy. She, pn the other hand, focused her gaze on Natasha. She stayed silent for a few seconds.

“I can do it,” she finally said. Facing Steve, she added “Go talk to them. Make them wait until we're ready.”

Steve didn't want to. He didn't want to have any more part in all of this mess. But something in Peggy's attitude was letting him know that she was sure of herself and knew what she was doing. She was putting her career on the line but, if it was her choice, what could Steve do?

He faced the crowd once more, feeling more stupid than when he used to perform bad vaudeville with Bucky in shitty theaters until the audience threw produce at their faces. At least then he had felt like he was entertaining them in a way, even if it was just by providing a moving target.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. Natalie is really flattered, and so she's decided that she'll perform a song for you. She's just warming up her voice right now, so we have to ask you for a little more patience.”

He spoke a little more to fill the silence, then movement from backstage drew his attention. With a flourish, he introduced Natasha onto the stage and left it, hopefully for the last time.

He went to the area at the back of the stage where Peggy was standing behind a microphone, hidden by the long curtain they had drawn back after the screening of _The Dancing Cavalier_. Bucky was standing in the opposite corner of the small space created by curtain. Fury and Pierce were in their own corner close to Steve.  
He was actually vaguely surprised to see Bucky there, as he had expected him to be handling the accompanying music for Natasha and Peggy's performance. Steve crossed the room towards him, giving Peggy a small smile as he passed her, although she was already focused on her performance.

“Why aren't you on the piano?” Steve asked Bucky in a hushed tone as they heard the music start from beyond the stage.

Bucky smiled enigmatically. “I'm needed for something else.”

Steve didn't know what to reply to that. He tried to push down his uneasiness and trust that Bucky would explain everything in time. The situation was already enough of a mess. He'd let himself be carried by emotion for a while and had gained absolutely nothing from it. He might as well take this moment to calm down a little.

In the relative darkness, far enough away from Pierce and Fury, Steve felt comfortable enough to lean against Bucky and take his hand. He needed a lot more comfort than that to feel like himself again, but it was a start.

Bucky leaned into him as well, but there was still a calculating smile on his face. Steve wasn't worried about it, not if Bucky was touching him this way. He couldn't worry about anything, like this.

In front of them, Peggy started singing. She gave her soul to the performance and Steve was once again left thinking about how much better she was than him.

Of course the audience had asked for more. How could anyone not have after having heard sing?

The song they had picked was one from _The Dancing Cavalier_ , a song of longing where the main female character cried out for her forbidden lover.

It was beautiful and moving. Maybe not the best choice for what was supposed to be the festive end to a night of celebration, but it would definitely impress the audience.

Halfway through the song, Bucky removed himself from Steve's side. He looked towards the other end of the room and smiled predatorily when he saw that Fury and Pierce were both focused on Peggy.

Bucky moved quickly in the shadows until he reached the pulley that controled the stage curtain. Steve stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on but guessing he was better off not drawing any attention to his boyfriend's actions.

Bucky started pulling.

The curtain started moving.

Peggy didn't stop singing. Instead, she re-doubled her efforts in putting as much emotion as she could into the song.

As soon as Pierce noticed that something was going on, he started shouting at Bucky to stop. The latter, of course, ignored him, grinning darkly.

The curtain opened, revealing the audience to them.

And revealing them to the audience.

Peggy kept on singing, whereas Natasha stopped the miming she'd been doing.

People knew now. Pierce wouldn't be able to hide this. There were more than a hundred witnesses and they all knew that what they had heard in _The Dancing Cavalier_ wasn't Natalie Roman's real voice.

Natasha caught Steve's eye after dropping her pantomime. Slowly, deliberately, she smiled.

Steve felt guilt rise up in his throat. This had been her plan from the start, there was no other explanataion. She had known that the studio wouldn't do anything to help Peggy and had taken matters into her own hands.

She was putting her entire career at risk. She was sacrificing everything. And Steve had thought her selfish. He had thought her a liar. He had thought himself so much better than her, when in reality he'd been entirely useless and she had just put everything on the line. And it had worked.

The pianist – probably a musician that the theater kept on hand – kept going through the whole song, either unaware of what was happening on stage or thinking that it was part of the performance. Or maybe simply going through the motions because he didn't know what else to do. Peggy followed his lead and kept singing too. Once the piece was over, she let her last note echo in the suddenly silent room.

Natasha walked towards her and took her hand. They bowed together. “Peggy Carter,” Natasha announced into the microphone. In doing so, she finally let her real voice be heard. There was no mistaking the fact that she hadn't been the one speaking in the movie. More importantly, she had put Peggy's name out there, making sure that the studio couldn't try and push her back into anonymity.

The crowd wasn't sure how to react to all of this. However, after one person uncertainly started clapping, the others followed.

Steve could see that Pierce was seething with rage, but the studio owner couldn't lash out in public. All of this would have consequences later, that was almost certain. But Steve didn't care about that, not right now. Because this felt just enough like a victory.

Peggy was standing tall on the stage, receiving the crowd's applause like she had been born for it. Natasha left her to it and joined Steve at the back of the stage instead.

“Thank you,” Steve told her. “For what you did.”

Natasha shrugged. “My career would have been dead anyway if it wasn't for her. One of us deserves to have her talent recognized. I've had my share of fame. Early retirement doesn't actually sound so bad.”

“Really? You're gonna stop?”

Natasha smiled. “I've already been really lucky. Someone in my situation shouldn't have gotten this far.”

“But you're talented. You can-”

She shook his head. “These talking pictures? They're the future. I'm the past. It's time to leave the past behind. Don't worry about me. I've always been good at reinventing myself.”

“But what about me then? Do you think...”

“Oh, you couldn't be somebody else to save your life. You've always been too much _you_ for that. It's really quite impressive that you made it this far in the industry.”

“I... I'm not sure if I'm supposed to take that as an insult or as a compliment,” Steve admitted.

Natasha replied with an enigmatic smile.

“Bu you've always been good at living outside of your time,” she added. “So I think you have nothing to worry about. People will forget Natalie Roman very soon, but Steve Rogers is a name that sticks.”

She left him after that comment, walking towards the backstage area, the picture of composure even as she faced the prospect of changing her entire life.

Steve had been so focused on her that he hadn't noticed the fact that the curtain had been closed once more. Peggy was still standing beside the microphone, but her back was to the audience. She looked tired. She also looked brilliant and proud.

Steve walked towards her.

“So, how did I do for my first public appearance?”

Steve grinned. “You were amazing. You were perfect.”

“I think you're a little biased,” she replied, one corner of her mouth curling upwards.

“That might be true.” His eyes lingered on her mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

Steve didn't feel like waiting until they got home. He had gone through so many different emotions in the last few hours and the only thing he wanted was to drown himself in the feeling of safety that came from contact with people he loved.

Peggy nodded, and their kiss was soft and sweet. The kind of kiss two people exchange when they are tired and looking for comfort. It was good. It was perfect.

When they parted, they joined Bucky, who was still leaning against the wall beside the pulleys. Fury and Pierce were busy fighting on the other side of the room.

Yes, there would be consequences to all of this. But those felt like a problem Steve would be a lot more ready to handle tomorrow.

“I'm thinking-”

“Always a dangerous activity,” Bucky interrupted easily.

Steve rolled his eyes. “How about we leave through the backdoor while Pierce is too busy to notice us and we skip the socializing?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You're letting your rebellious streak come out to play?”

“Well, I figure we're already in deep shit when it comes to our relationship with the studio, so we might as well go all the way and enjoy ourselves. I feel like it would only be a minor offence compared to the rest of it.”

“Actually,” Peggy said. “I think I agree with Steve. My feet are killing me and the only thing I want right now is to collapse onto a couch. Besides, aren't we supposed to have another case of champagne waiting for us? It would be sad to let it go to waste.”

“I like this line of thinking. Should we get going then?” Bucky offered Peggy his hand and his most charming smile.

Peggy took both. “Lead the way.”

“You're in luck, I'm an expert at finding the dodgiest entrance to any building. We should be able to walk out right under everyone's nose.”

And that was what they did. Bucky pretended to sneak around, ushering them through doorways as if people were after them, and Steve and Peggy went along with the charade easily. It felt good to laugh at a simple joke. To feel a simple emotion. To let themselves express things without restraint or thinking about it.

They couldn't take a company car back if they wanted their escape not to be noticed right away, so they started walking until they could find a taxi. They made an odd group, three pedestrians all dressed for a gala. Luckily, it was already late enough that there weren't many people around to be curious.

Their driver did have questions about who they were, but he was quickly shut down by Bucky, who told him they were just three paying customers that were really tired and would tip generously if they got home quickly. His tone didn't allow protestation, and the driver reluctantly stopped staring at Steve in the rearview mirror as he moved into traffic.

Peggy leaned against him to whisper close to his ear. “Is this what my future's going to be like? People constantly staring and trying to recognise me?”

Steve shrugged. “Pretty much. It's not so bad. Someday you might meet a fan who will actively pretend not to know you so that she can impress you, and then the two of you might just fall in love.”

Peggy pushed him away playfully. “It's nice to know I have other options if I ever grow bored of you.”

“I hope that won't happen too quickly, though.”

“I guess you'll just have to make sure I stay entertained,” Peggy said, smiling as she leaned towards him once more. “And be careful, I hear that movie stars have very expensive tastes.”

“Please respect the nice taxi driver who took us in,” Bucky interrupted them loudly. “And spare a thought for my sanity while you're at it.”

Peggy and Steve both laughed, but they also moved to sit properly again.

Fortunately, it was a fairly short drive back to Steve and Bucky's house. Unfortunately, someone had had an accident right at the entrance to their neighbourhood and it was blocking the whole street. Even more unfortunately, it had started raining heavily on the way.

They all looked at each other as the driver explained that it might take a while to go around the block, since the accident seemed to have created a traffic jam as everyone searched for alternative routes.

They were only two streets away.

Surely it wasn't worth it.

After a moment of uncertainty, Steve paid the taxi driver and he, Bucky and Peggy all braced themselves before opening the car doors at once and stepping out into the downpour.

They were almost immediately soaked through. Bucky was the first to start running, and Peggy soon followed his example despite the fact that she was wearing a close-fitting dress and high heels. Steve ran too. Uncontrollably, he started laughing. He spared a guilty thought for the people who had been in the car crash, although he was pleased to note no one seemed seriously injured as he dashed past. This mad jog through the rain felt like the climax of a day full of ups and downs. It seemed like the water was wiping everything clean, allowing Steve to breathe again.

Expensive clothes clinging to his body, eyes trained on the shapes of Peggy and Bucky laughing before him, Steve realized how lucky he truly was. He realized that everything would work out, somehow, despite how uncertain the future was.

As they finally stepped into the house, leaving puddles behind them, Steve didn't feel cold. He was full of warmth. He felt ready to burst into song.

He had to stand in the hallway for a second, letting himself experience that feeling to its roots.

Then Bucky suggested that they just drink champagne naked in order to let their clothes dry and suddenly there were more pressing things that Steve needed to experience.


End file.
